Mary Allen
by Idiotic-Rebel
Summary: "You do not love me" "What do you mean?" "You love another." "Of whom do you speak?" "I speak of the one whose name you mutter in your sleep, and whisper when you think no one can hear you." "And who is that, my dear Ms. Allen?" "Jane Eyre" -Rochester needed a new governess after Jane left, and Mary Allen fit the role. Too bad his heart was already taken. Reposted.
1. Chapter 1

**Summary: **Jane did not return a year after leaving. Rochester has not sent Adele to school, but instead, because he cares for her education, employs another governess. Molly Allen. But as she finds out her new Master's secrets, she falls for him. But his heart is already filled with another. She soon sets about to make all right.

**Disclaimer: **I own not Jane Eyre, or anything associated with her, including Mr. Rochester. This is AU in a way, seeing as I am only reading the book now. The basis of my story is the movies. The 2011 version of Rochester is my favorite.

**A/N: **Now, I used to have this story on my old account, but it has now been moved here. I have changed nothing yet, except removing all my answers to reviews etc. I hope to update this a little more frequently. I do have one thing to say: to "Guest", I am not now, nor ever will, have this story be about Helen Burns. I'm sorry, but this is "Mary Allen" not "Helen Burns". And Although I may write another story about Helen, it is not at this time, and not in this story. SO PLEASE, stop trying to get me to write about Helen. I will get there when I get there and not a moment sooner.

* * *

My name is Molly Allen. I was born October the 20th 1830, raised with all the finery that my humble family of 5 could afford. My father, John Allen, was a gentleman, with only 2,000 pounds a year. In any other case, a considerable sum, but with all of his children – rather meager. In the year 1839 my father died unexpectedly, leaving my mother, my two sisters, and my two brothers now to fend for ourselves. A year later, my mother, Mary Allen, followed him up to heaven. This unfortunate turn of events, caused for my brother, Roger, at the tender age of eighteen, to take the responsibility of the entire family.

My elder sister Eliza, who was sixteen at the time, then became mother to the rest of us. However, after only eight months, it was soon decided that we could not take care of ourselves on our own. Our uncles and aunts soon found it in their hearts to split us up, each taking one of us to raise as their own.

Eliza went to our father's sister, Mrs. Hancock of Walton Park in Sussex. My other sister, Anne, who was two years younger than I, went to Charleston Manor – the home of our uncle, my father's brother, in Nottingham. My brother Roger stayed on at Livingston Cottage, keeping the farm going as long as he could withstand it. I was then chosen, to live with our Aunt and Uncle Polk. My mother's sister and her husband at Branhurst Hall. They had four children of their own, but could not help but allow for another to be their little ward. My little brother George went with me, being only 4 years of age.

I remember the day, it was in June, that we arrived at Branhurst as if it were yesterday. Little George sat next to me, sucking on his thumb, his little blue eyes peering out of the windows in excitement. Roger was to convey us as far as Northampton, where Mr. Polk's sister, Mrs. Greene, was to assist us on the further way to Branhurst Hall.

"Nervous sister?" I remember my brother asking. I nodded, my brown curls bouncing wildly, he chuckled, "Don't worry, I'm sure that Branhurst Hall will suit you fine. I vaguely remember my Aunt Polk, a very charming woman. You'll enjoy her no doubt." he continued to say, he was trying help, but he only made me more anxious.

"Remember, I will be visiting you every holiday, as will Eliza and Anne." he explained. I desperately wanted to ask why we were being split up, but held my tongue. I was no baby, I would bear it with my chin up high. I was a Yardley after all, we Allens did not show weaknesses. Even this however, did not stop me from asking. "Why? Why is it that we cannot stay at Livingston?" I asked, my curiosity getting the best of me. Roger sighed, hanging his head.

"Because dearest," he began, swinging his arm around my shoulders, "I cannot take care of you as easily as our dear aunt and uncle. I am currently unmarried, and will be unable to give you the home that you would require. Our relatives are much more able to do so, and you will be giving them comfort in your own little way" he said, though in truth he did not believe it himself.

"Are we there yet?" Little George asked abruptly, Roger smiled warmly, shaking his head, "No" his eyes glazed over in tears unshed, "But we will be soon" he said softly, almost unable to be heard. I remained still, not staying silent. Words were not enough for the deep feeling of sorrow that filled the carriage. I did not believe that I would ever feel this amount of pain before, but fate had taught me otherwise.

The carriage soon came to a halt, and Roger was quick to help us out of the carriage. I could vaguely hear the driver in the background say, "Flyer leaving in 15 minutes only, 15 minutes only ladies and gentlemen." "Do we know what she looks like?" I asked Roger, taking George's hand. Roger assented, taking George's and my small bag from the driver. "She's a red-head, with a permanent scowl" he supplied, I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. That information wasn't entirely helpful.

I soon spotted a woman whom I believed must be the elusive Mrs. Greene. Her hair was indeed vibrant red, and her features were neither comforting, nor elegant. Her mouth was indeed etched into a fine scowl. All in all, she seemed a fearsome creature, one which I had no desire to know on greater acquaintance. "Roger" I said softly, catching my brother's attention, I pointed out the woman whom was observing, "Is that her?" I asked, my eyes most likely wide as saucers, I was terrified if that was her. Roger just chuckled, "Yes my little plumpkin, that's her" my brother said, using the nickname that I despised.

"Mrs. Greene?" Roger asked, taking off his hat as he approached the woman. "Ah, Master Roger Allen I trust" she said, a smile which was frightening showing off her too-large teeth. George moved closer to me, he was obviously as disturbed as I was. The woman turned our way, "And this must be little Mary Yardley" "Molly" I corrected, "Mary was my mother's name. I'm Molly" Mrs. Greene must not have been expecting for me to correct her. "Indeed, she will not be called anything else, and when she sets her mind to something, good luck persuading her otherwise" my brother exclaimed proudly, throwing a massive arm around me and pulling me into his side.

Mrs. Greene humphed, raising an eyebrow and turning up her nose at me. I would not like this woman, I already knew that. "Our carriage to convey us to Branhurst is that way" she said pointing to a large and ornate carriage. "I will join you presently. The driver's name is Stevens" she said, walking into a shop behind her, and leaving us to ourselves.

Roger quickly led us to the carriage, "Stevens" he declared, catching the snoozing driver's attention. "I am Roger Allen, I was informed by Mrs. Greene to drop my sister and brother here." he said, the knot in my stomach tightening. This was really it, I would be leaving him for good. "Yessir, I hear' you was comin'. Lemme tyke the lass's bags sir" Stevens said, his Scottish brogue causing for me to have a hard time understanding him. Roger handed him the items, and turned to George and I. "Northampton flyer leaving in five minutes" the driver called out in the distance.

Roger looked up, and then looked back to us. He gently pulled me into an embrace, "Take care of yourself Molly, don't talk back. Remember, you are one of the Polk's now. I'll send for you when I can. Learn what you must, you won't always be there, and soon, you'll be home with us again." "Together?" I asked meekly, trying hard not to cry, "Together" Roger said, kissing me on the forehead and helping me into the carriage. He next embraced George, and placed him in the carriage as well.

"I'll see you in six months" he promised, shutting the door just as Mrs. Green entered the carriage from the other side. "You promise?" I asked, a lone tear dropping, he kissing my hand, "I promise plumpkin. I promise you" he said, backing away, and signaling for Stevens to drive on.

I watched through the window, as he walked behind the carriage for a ways. His eyes said everything, he was so sorry to lose us, but there was no other way. I then turned back to face Mrs. Greene who sat opposite. I would not cry, though I sincerely felt like it.

"Don't worry Molly, your tears will soon be over, you'll be at Branhurst. You'll learn how to be a lady, like your cousins, Henrietta and Georgianna. Your cousins William and Richard will be there too. You'll like them all" Mrs. Greene tried to reassure. "Yes Ma'am." I replied, but there was no comforting me. George was too little to understand, I had no one to talk to. Mrs. Greene continued to chatter of who the governess was, a certain Barbara Gold. She told me of all the wonderful things I would learn, and do. And how I must now forget the family which I had, for this was my new family. I must learn that the Polks are just as suitable to be my family as my own.

I did not pay much attention to her chattering, fo r in my mind I still pictured my own family. Eliza, Anne, and Roger. Mama, and Papa. The tears in each of their eyes, especially Roger's. I could still see him walking behind the carriage, wishing that in some way he could change all of this. "Yes Ma'am" was all I said, however, when Mrs. Greene asked me a question.

When we arrived at Branhurst, George and I were ushered immediately into the parlor. I soon saw my Aunt Polk in the flesh. A fragile little lady, with gentle features, and kind looks. She would consider me as a daughter, I was sure of it. "Come here little Molly, and sit by me" she said sweetly, patting the little area on the chaise that she was sitting on. I obeyed willingly, I did not wish to start wrong with her. She reminded me of my own dear mother.

"So Molly, you are come to live with us here at Branhurst. How do you like it?" she asked, stroking the pug on her lap, who was sleeping quietly. "Very much Aunt Polk. It is a grand house. And very beautiful. Much like Livingston, but much grander." I replied politely, it truly was a beautiful house. If only I knew then how it would be destroyed, I would have grieved.

"No, my dear. You must call me Aunt Fanny, for you are my niece, and you are to live with us. Aunt Polk is far too formal for people who are very close" my aunt said, placing a hand on my shoulder. "Do you not agree Sir John?" she asked her husband, who stood nearby.

Sir John smiled warmly at his wife, his brown eyes sparkling, "Yes my dear, I agree wholeheartedly. You are to call us Uncle John, and Aunt Fanny. There is a end to it" he told me decidedly. I smiled nervously, "Yes sir"

My brother decided at that time to attach himself to Uncle John's legs. "Here, here, what do we have?" my uncle asked, picking up my little brother. "My brother, Uncle John, George Edward Allen." I replied, watching as my brother took hold of Uncle John's hair, playing with it. For Uncle John's hair had turned hoary, that is, white. My Uncle laughed heartedly, taking a seat and bouncing my brother upon his knee. Earning for himself satisfied giggles from little George. Father always bounced him on his knees.

"Molly, surely you would like to meet the other children?" Aunt Fanny asked, "Yes Ma'am." I replied quietly. My nervousness must have shone, for she soon took hold of my hand, "Do not worry my dear, I am sure they will like you. Walters, please be so kind as to inform Richard that his cousin is here, and to gather the other children." Aunt Fanny told the servant who stood nearby. The man bowed, and left the room to do as ordered.

I wondered absentmindedly just what my cousins were like. Henrietta and Georgianna must be beautiful, they had to be. For their mother must have been quite the beauty when she was younger, yes, I vaguely remember my mother telling me that. Mother, the very thought of her made me almost cry. But I would not cry in front of my aunt and uncle. I would wait, until I had privacy before I became the banshee that I knew that I would be.

I did not have to wait long before the door opened once more, and two boys strode in, two girls trailing behind them. "Ah, Richard, William. Glad you're here" Uncle John announced, "Children" Aunt Fanny began, still stroking her pug, "Allow me to introduce your cousins Molly, and George Allen" she said, causing for the boys to bow, and the girls to curtsy. I quickly stood, and curtsied myself. However, because I was naturally clumsy, my curtsy was rather awkward.

"Molly, these are your cousins," my Aunt continued, "Richard," A handsome boy of 15 bowed, and I curtsied again. "Henrietta" the older girl,with red ringlets curtsied, and I returned the favor. "William" the other boy, his hair sandy-colored, and his eyes bright blue, bowed. He looked to only be about 12. "And our youngest, Georgianna" Aunt Fanny finished, as the younger girl with light-brown hair and striking cerulean blue eyes, curtsied. She was my age, I vaguely remember Mrs. Greene telling me. I curtsied in reply, and she smiled widely, her eyes sparkling.

"Children, why don't you take Molly to the playroom?" Aunt Fanny said, "And Richard, send for Claire, she would do better to take George" Uncle John said, chuckling as the young boy continued to gurgle at his faces. "Yes father" Richard replied, leading me out of the room and shutting the door.

* * *

"So Molly," Georgianna began, "How do you like our home?" I smiled slightly, "It is grand, much bigger than I am used to though. I feel as if I will get lost" I confessed. Georgianna laughed, "Lost? No, for the first few days, or even weeks, you will have one of us around with you." she said, William interjected, "That is, until you get acquainted with the place." he said, opening a door and leading us in.

I could not have imagined how it would have looked, we had no playroom at home. We had the library, which we could only enter if we were quiet. For the library was Papa's room, where he did his business. He was the reason that I absolutely loved books. I could see that the playroom had its share of books, the library, I decided, must be enormous. I would have to ask permission to see it.

"Well?" William asked, I had not said a word since I entered the room. "It is magnificent" I said, my brown eyes were large, I was sure. William and Georgianna simply laughed, "Yes, we can see that" William teased, then telling me of all the things which happened here. All the jokes on the instructors. Georgianna told me of all the various subject which we would study under Ms Gold, the governess.

"We're going to be just like sisters." Georgianna declared, threading her arm with mine. I smiled, I had a family again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Jane Eyre. and I absolutely love Jane herself, but I just wanted to come up with something of my own.

* * *

The next few months flew by, and I soon found myself in a routine with my cousins. Ms. Gold seemed to enjoy the challenge that I soon put to her by my never-ending questions. July passed quickly, then August blew in, with Georgianna's birthday. The first party that I had really been to. My studies increased, and I soon learned how to play the harp, as well as the piano which I already knew keenly. September came, and cold settled, for the rains were rather unusual. October came, and my birthday. My aunt and uncle's presents were far too spoiling for me, for my uncle gave me a pony. I named him Gaius, for to me he looked like a Roman horse of old.

November came, and my excitement increased, for I would soon see my entire family for the holidays. I began to sing more often, sometimes being embarrassed as the servants would smile and tell me how pretty I sang, and how beautiful I was.

I would look in the mirror, but I did not see any beauty lying there. My eyes were too large for my face, though William always commented that they were doe-like. My skin was too pale, I looked sickly most of the time, and when I went outdoors my skin would burn, and be rather painful. My nose was button-like, but I saw nothing spectacular. My lips were rather nice, but I was never sure of what it was. I had no freckes like Georgianna, but in my view, she was beautiful. My teeth were – in my opinion – too large, and beaver-like. The only thing that I could say was beautiful was my hair. It was thick, and dark brown. I had interited curls from my mother, and thickness from my father.

All-in-all, I suppose that I was tolerable, but I was no great beauty. In my opinion, Eliza was the beauty of our family, and Henrietta the beauty of the Polk family. For they were tall and graceful, while I was clumsy and short.

That December, I waited anxiously for a letter from Eliza or Roger, informing me of when they would come. But no letter arrived, "Have faith cousin" William would say daily, trying to keep me cheerful when I wanted nothing more than to be downcast. I would nod, smile, and continue on my way, though each day reminded that my heart was slowly becoming more painful.

At last, the second week of December, I received a letter from Eliza, and being rather impatient, I did not wait to open the letter until my uncle came home. I voraciously read the words, my heart soaring higher than the clouds.

"_December 6th, 1830_

_My dear Molly,_

_I am excited to see you, and cannot wait until we come next week. Roger is coming here to fetch me to-morrow, Roger has already gone to Charleston Manor to fetch Anne. Oh, dearest Molly, you will not believe how it is here. My Aunt is very kind, as I'm sure that our family at Branhurst is. I have met my cousin Charles. He is your age my dear Molly, though much more sickly than you ever were. Nothing ever phased you did it? You were always healthy? I have received your letters, I am so sorry that I have not written until now, but I'm afraid that I have been rather busy with my studies. As I'm sure you are as well, my dear Molly. Have you grown any? I know how much you desire to be my height, but I am sure that you will reach it. How are our cousins at Branhurst? Are you getting along well? I sorry that I did not write a letter on your birthday, so here are my wishes. Happy Birthday my dearest most sweet Plumpkin. And yes, I know that you are probably pursing your lips at the very mention of that name."_

I was indeed pursing my lips

"_I am sorry my dear, but it is true, you were the cutest baby. That is, until George came along. I hear that our cousin is named Georgianna. Do they get along? I must go now, my aunt is calling. I will finish this letter as soon as I can. But for now, Au Revoir."_

There was a break in her writing, and the rest was written hastily. I looked at the date, finding it to be two days later.

"_My dearest Molly. Since writing the above, I have received the worst news since Mama and Papa passed on. Roger is not in the greatest health. Apparently, he caught a chill whilst he was in Nottingham to visit Anne a fortnight ago. I immediately was conveyed to Livingston, where I am now. My dear one, I fear the worst. I do not know if he will survive this. The last time he was sick he barely made it out. Please inform our uncle of the situation. Roger wants to see you and little George, in case the worst happens. Molly, please, I beg of you, come to us soon. I don't think that Roger will last much longer. _

_Your most loving sister,_

_Elizabeth"_

My eyes were filled with tears as I finished the letter. Roger ill? No. But it was obviously true, for Eliza's letter was written in a most earnest fashion. I hoped and prayed that Roger had not died, seeing as it was the 12th and the letter had been sent on the 8th.

It was in this state that I was discovered by Henrietta in the playroom, "Molly?" the older girl asked, her bright blue eyes filled with worry as she took in my distressed appearance. "Hetta, I must find Uncle John" I said, standing from her chair, and nearly running out of the room. "Molly darling, what is wrong?" Henrietta asked. Tearfully, I told her, handing her the letter.

After the letter was read Henrietta herself offered to help me find Sir John.

* * *

At 6 o'clock the next morning, I found myself in a carriage on my way back to Livingston. Sir John sat next to me, holding my smaller frame. His face was grave, he had already lost his wife's sister, and he had lost some of his own family before. He had sent off a letter to Eliza, informing her that we would be arriving sometime in the afternoon. I could vaguely hear the horses's hoofs clomping on the road. The carriage was rather cold, and I snuggled closer to my uncle for warmth.

A few hours later I was asleep, seeing as I had cried so much that I was absolutely exhausted. I slept through the whole trip, my anguish so deep that if I awoke I feared I would cry.

"Molly" my uncle said, awakening me. I looked around, Livingston was right outside the carriage door. A home which I loved and hated. For in it, I enjoyed the most happy times, and the most sad of times. Uncle John got out, stooping to carry my sleepy form to the house. Eliza met us at the door.

"Thank you Sir John for bringing her." Eliza said, as she unbuttoned my overcoat. "Roger is asleep for now. But he will want to see you in the morning" she informed, taking off my coat entirely. "How is he?" Uncle John asked. Eliza's hazel eyes showed weariness, "Not good sir, I think the only reason he is hanging on is to see us all together once more. George is with your wife I presume" Uncle John nodded his assent. "Come Molly" she said, taking my hand and leading me to my room.

The next morning I was ushered into Roger's room by Eliza. I barely recognized him, for his once rugged features, were sickly and pale. He looked like death itself had come to seize him. "Molly" he greeted weakly, his normally deep-throated voice now raspy and quiet. I approached the bed, and gingerly sat on the side as he took my hand in his. "See, I told you I'd see you in six months" he joked, but his laughter was cut short as he started coughing. "Yes, you did" I replied quietly, desperately trying not to cry.

"There, there. Where is the strong sister who would not cry after her parents death, unless when she was alone?" he asked me, stroking my cheek. I ducked my head, tears beginning to escape their confines. "Are you going to die?" I asked the question which I feared the most. Roger swallowed, "I don't know dearest. Anything is possible." he said, enduring another coughing fit.

I reached over to his bed-stand, taking the cup of tea that Martha, the servant, had brought up. He gingerly took the cup, sipping a few times, and passing it back to me. "Is my uncle here?" he asked me, I nodded, "Do you want me to fetch him?" he nodded in reply, letting go of my hand so I could leave the room.

I found my uncle and Eliza speaking in hushed voices, but the moment they noticed me they stood silent. "Yes Molly dearest?" Eliza asked, I informed them that Roger was wishing to see my uncle. Sir John nodded curtly, putting a hand on my shoulder before walking past me to my brother's room. He looked at me once more before shutting the door. I wanted to know what they were saying, but I would be no eavesdropper.

"Molly?" Eliza said, getting my attention, "Can you help me here darling?" I agreed, assisting her with holding the yarn that she was beginning to wind into a ball. There we sat for a extended period of time, how long I've no idea. For that day seemed to lag on forever, as if it would never end. As if our sorrow would continue forever. "Oh dear" Eliza cried out, seeing that the clock had struck 7:00. "What is it?" I asked her, alarmed. "Oh nothing, I just remembered that I had asked Martha for the menu for dinner, I had better speak to her about it" she replied, standing and rushing out of the room.

I stayed where I was for a few more minutes, before I decided that I wanted to know what was going on. I decided to be an eavesdropper after all, and – as quietly as I could – crept to the door where Roger's room was, earnestly trying to hear what was being said.

". . .are you sure?" I heard Uncle John say, my brother coughed, "Yes. Dr. Pullman was quite clear. He doesn't think that I'll recover. I have too much fluid in my lungs he said, tuberculosis. Apparently I got it when I was a child, but did not know. I strained myself when I went to Nottingham, causing for it to flare up." Roger replied. It was all I could do not to cry out, but doing so would give away the fact that I was listening to something I shouldn't be.

"My God" I heard Uncle John exclaim. My brother chuckled raspingly, "Take care of her, treat her as your own. My brother will inherit this when he grows old enough. Until then, please, sir, I beg you, take care of my sisters. Molly will never recover from this. She has already had so much heartbreak." his voice broke as he started coughing more than I had heard him before. "I promise you. Your sister will be well looked after." I heard my Uncle say.

I did not hear anything further, for I would not. I ran out of the house, to a tree which I had spent my younger years playing around. My tears came unabated, I knew then, that I would lose my brother. There I remained until my tears stopped, which lasted for quite a few hours. I despairingly walked back to the house long after dark.

* * *

Three days later, Roger was gone. As I heard the words of the priest, "Dear Lord, we pray that you accept this child into your kingdom" I knew that it was not a dream after all. Roger was gone for good, I would never hear his laughter again, nor see his mischievous eyes. It seemed that indeed my life was cursed. I spent one more week with Eliza, Anne, George, and Uncle John. My cousins had come with Aunt Fanny, and the funeral was larger than my parents were.

I soon returned to Branhurst, a different child than when I left those few weeks previous.


	3. Chapter 3

**This chapter is simply meant to give a little bit of filler, hopefully staying true to Charlotte Bronte. I looked up Thornfield Hall, which was based off another Hall which is in Derbyshire. So, I set Thornfield in Derbyshire. **

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Jane Eyre or anything associated with her.

* * *

_June 1848_

Today was the day I left. Today, I continued my journey through life, a free-thinking, well-educated young woman of 18. I remember packing my few belongings, as my brother George – who was now a ever growing young man of 13 – looked on. "Why do you have to go Molly?" he asked, still using the name which I had abandoned long ago. I smiled, "You are not old enough to take over Livingston, and I have encroached on my very kind aunt and uncle for too long." I said, remembering to take my sketchbook.

George stepped into my room, "But surely there is something you can do here? Why don't you continue teaching at Nelsons? Mrs. Nelson always needs another hand." he reasoned, sitting on my bed. I looked up at him, my brown eyes meeting his hazel ones. "True, but, I have no desire to stay on there. We are orphans George. Eliza is married, and living in Scotland. Anne has just reached the age to be courted, and I cannot stay here" I told him, shutting my bag."Besides, I am no Polk"

He sighed, "Its because of James Nelson, isn't it?" he asked at length, I nodded slowly, sitting down. "Yes" "Running is not the answer" I nodded, "I know. But he broke my heart, my trust. All for what? Because he cannot stand? That is not love" I said, fiddling with the pleats in my dress.

George pursed his lips, "When do you go?" he asked, changing the subject. "At 9 o'clock, to-morrow" I replied simply, "Where is it?" he asked, flipping through my sketches, the portraits of the family, my one link to those who had died. "Derbyshire" I said, watching as he stopped on one portrait in particular. It was of our mother, his fingers glided deftly over the page, "I don't remember her" he muttered, shutting the book and handing it to me.

"Derbyshire is far, will you visit often?" he asked, I smiled, "Yes, I will do my best. But I do not know what kind of employer I will have. Nor the challenge before me." he sighed, "Well," he stood, walking to my door, "I must get dressed for dinner. You know how Aunt Fanny is, especially after Uncle John died." he said, I said nothing, just nodded in assent. He understood, and left. I sighed, my heart told me not to leave, while my mind said that I had to flee. I was torn.

* * *

The next morning, I found myself up at dawn. Finishing any last minute things which I had to accomplish. I gathered the objects for my journey, and made them ready to go. The garden behind the house was rather tempting, and I decided to walk until breakfast. I was soon joined by William, who had come back when he had heard that I was leaving. We walked together in silence, enjoying the morning sun.

"You leave after breakfast?" he asked.

"Yes" I replied.

"Do you know what awaits you?"

I laughed, "I know some." I began, "I am to tutor a young girl, about my age when I first came here. She is the child of a Mr. Rochester. His last governess left without even so much as a word so I hear" I said, 'I do not know the details, for it was not he that wrote."

"Ah" William replied, stopping in his tracks, "Molly" he started, taking my hand, preventing me from moving any further. He looked at me, his blond hair falling into his eyes, "If you ever need anything, you know where to find me. No matter what it is, even if you think it rather minuscule, tell me, and I will come to you. You know this right?" he said, I smiled, "Yes, I know. And I will" I said, kissing his cheek and continuing to walk.

William did not follow me, but instead he just smiled strangely, shook his head and walked toward the all of the family, I would miss him the most. He had been my older brother since Roger died. It was he who comforted me, he who kept me where I should be when I wanted to give up. Did I really want to leave after all? I sighed, I had already committed to Mr. Rochester, there was no turning back now. I stayed outside for another few minutes before following him inside.

* * *

It had begun to rain lightly, meaning that it would be a miserable journey. In the foyer, my cousins, brother, and Aunt had gathered, preparing to say goodbye. My Aunt embraced me, she understood why I left, and did not question. But she was unhappy, she was losing a girl who she considered to be a daughter.

"Goodbye my dear, may you have a pleasant trip. You must write when you arrive, and tell us you got there safely." she said, kissing me on the forehead, I almost regretted leaving her, and it wouldn't be the last time. "I promise Aunt, I will write often, and I will come to see you as soon as I can. I'm sure that Mr. Rochester will give me the holidays to visit" I assured, while she smiled sweetly.

I moved to Georgianna, who would not let me go, "Write me as well." she said, I nodded, and reached to embrace William "Take care, I am looking forward to your letter when you are through with Oxford." I said, tears threatening to spill over. He smiled, "I will, though if Lord Harris has anything to say, I'll be going to India soon" he said enthusiastically. His mother cried out, she did not want to lose her favorite son, but he was the second-born.

George was last, he did not want me to leave any more than I wanted to leave myself. My resolve was beginning to weaken, if I did not leave then I'm afraid I never would have. I quickly disentangled myself from him, and got into the carriage. I reached out the window, to wave goodbye as it started to move. "Goodbye, take care"

"God Bless you child" my Aunt called back, tears in her eyes as she watched me depart. I turned forward, this carriage would take me to Northampton, where I would take a coach to Millcote. I did not know what awaited me, but whatever it was, I was ready for anything.

* * *

It was cold when I arrived in Millcote, much colder than Northampton. I shivered and pulled my cloak tighter to myself, even though I was close to the fire, I couldn't help but feel a sinking feeling, as if I was in over my head. "Excuse me sir?" I caught the innkeeper's attention, a portly sort of man of 45 I would suppose. "Yes, lass? What can I do fer ye?" he asked, I inquired if there was anyone who had come looking for a Mary Allen. "Allen ye say?" he repeated, rubbing his chin, "Yes, there was a man lookin for a Mary Allen. I believe he just went to go check on his horses, do you want me to fetch 'im?" I nodded, and he smiled, promising to bring me another cloak on his way out.

I didn't have to wait long before the innkeeper returned, a haggardly man following him. "This 'ere man was lookin for ye, I brought him as ye asked" he said, walking away. The man looked me over, "Where is ye baggage?" he asked, "I haven't got that much with me, just this" I said, motioning too the rather large bag at my feet. He looked between me and it, his eyes were slightly wide, "Ye carried that bag yerself?" he asked skeptically, the bag was rather large for my petite frame. I raised my head with pride, "I may be small sir, but I can handle my own when necessary" I declared. He humphed, "Follow me" was all he grumbled as he took my bag in his large hands.

Although I was nervous, I did as commanded, handing the young innkeeper's son the cloak which the innkeeper had lent me. "Thank your father for me" I instructed, he nodded, scampering off. He reminded me of George when he was young, bright-eyed and eager to do as commanded. I smiled in remembrance, then cleared my throat as the man stared at me. "Are you waiting for something?" I asked snarkily, he shook his head, leading the way to the carriage.

"How far is Thornfield?" I asked, he shrugged, "Six miles I sup'ose" he said, strapping my bag to the back of the carriage. "So we'll be there by 9 o'clock?" I asked, I had noted the time on the clock over the mantlepiece, it was 7:30 now, and six miles took about an hour and a half. The driver looked at me as if I was a new creature, "That sounds 'bout right" he said, helping me into the carriage. I was soon settled in with a fur over my knees to keep from shaking from the chill. "The master's not going to like this" I heard the man mutter outside, he thought I couldn't hear him. I wondered briefly what he meant, and had half a mind to ask him. But before I could make my mind up, we were off, leaving the rather large town of Millcote behind us.

* * *

I believed that I may have angered my chauffeur, for that hour and a half seemed to drag longer than anticipated. My eyes began to grow weary, and my stomach sore. In my solitude I often forgot to eat. My stomach was making its case, and I hoped that we weren't very far now. I rolled down the window, and stuck my head out, regretting it the moment I did so, for the cold bit at my cheeks. "How much farther?" I asked, for the question was just begging to be asked. "Not very, you're a'most there now" came his simple reply, I knew that I would get no more out of him, and decided to duck back inside.

A few more minutes passed, and I was fast asleep, listening to the sound of the horses along the road.

I do not know how long I was asleep, but I do know that it wasn't long before I heard the distinct sound of a gate creaking. I bolted up, going immediately to the window. I could not see anything, but I was sure that if it were daylight, it would be a grand gate. The carriage moved a few feet, stopped once more, as the man closed the gate. We then continued on, though now I was wide awake. In the distance I could see the lighted windows of a house. 'This must be Thornfield' I thought.

Only five minutes later, the carriage stopped, a servant opened the door, and I stepped out. The doorway was indeed grand, it reminded me of Branhurst. I went up a few stairs, and walked in.

I had barely taken off my cloak when a older woman approached me, she was very pleasant, reminding me of Aunt Fanny. "You must be Mary Allen" she said, "Yes Ma'am. Are you Mrs. Rochester" I asked, the woman laughed, "My dear child whatever gave you that notion. My name is Mrs. Fairfax, the housekeeper" she replied. I quickly apologized for my assumption, continuing to explain that I was not usually that hasty to associate people with names. She was more than cordial, asking how my journey was, and had I eaten. I told her I had not, and she said that she would tell the cook to prepare something for me.

"But you must meet the Master before you do, for he has made it clear that he wants to get to know you before he approves for you to work here. For although your recommendations were quite complimentary, I'm afraid that the Master is very particular with whom will work with his charge" she said. "His charge? Is she not his daughter?" I asked, Mrs. Fairfax shook her head once more, "I thought you said you did not normally make hasty assumptions?" she asked rhetorically. I smiled, "Indeed madam, I do not" I replied.

She led me to a far room, and opened the door, revealing a rather warm room. Quite the opposite of the rest of the house, which was colder. I smiled, for it had been quite a few hours since I had felt this warm. Mrs. Fairfax went to the high-backed chair and said something to its occupant. She looked to me and motioned for me to approach.

Nervous as I was, I somehow managed to walk to the chair, and stood in front of it, remembering my school days when I was being examined by Miss Barbara. My eyes settled on the man in the chair. His brown hair was disheveled, his blue eyes examined me most thoroughly, but he said nothing.

"Mary" Mrs. Fairfax started, "This is your employer, Mr. Rochester" she said, I was about to curtsy when he barked: "Sit down" I did as ordered, sitting in the chair opposite of him. "Leave us" he commanded to Mrs. Fairfax. She nodded, and turned to leave, giving me one last look before she shut the door – leaving him and I alone.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: **I own not Jane Eyre, etc.

* * *

A moment of silence passed between Mr. Rochester and I. He seemed to be studying me intimately, "How old are you Miss Allen?" he asked, his tone frightening, but I had already decided, I would not be frightened. "Eighteen, sir" I replied in the most courageous voice that I could muster. He looked me in the eyes.

"Are you afraid of me Miss Allen?" he asked quickly.

"No sir, not at all." was my reply, he looked at me incredulously.

"Are you sure Miss Allen? There was a tremble in your voice" he continued, I shook my head.

"No, sir. I'm tired. I had a long journey." I said. It wasn't completely true, but I would not admit that he made me nervous. He chuckled, but did not reply.

"May I ask sir, when may I meet my pupil?" I asked, I had already made the assumption that she was hid daughter, and found myself grossly mistaken. I would not make it clear that I had assumed it, therefore, I referred to her as simply 'my pupil'. Mr. Rochester sighed, "In the morning." was his reply.

I was overjoyed, if I was going to meet her, it must mean that he approved of me. My enthusiasm however, I kept hidden, for my face gave no hints whatsoever. After his question, I did not expect for any continuation of conversation. I was going to ask to be excused when he began asking more questions. "What is education Miss Allen? Your qualifications?" he asked, his gaze turned to the fire.

"I was tutored by my aunt and uncle's governess, a Miss Gold. Who gave me the best education that any girl could ask for. I then was instructed by a Mrs. Nelson, in Northampton. I taught at her school for a year after I was finished, at which point I applied to be a governess." I spouted freely. I would have thought that he would have known, but did not complain when he asked.

"Your aunt and uncle's governess?" Mr. Rochester repeated, turning to face me, "And why were you tutored by this, Miss Gold?" he asked. I wondered if he knew that it was a sensitive subject, for in the momentary pause that I took to gather my thoughts, he tilted his head, "If you would be so kind" he said, mock politeness dripping from his tone.

I looked to the ground, but raised my head, I would not be pitied. "Because my parents died when I was very young. Ten years ago, to be precise." was my reply. I didn't like to speak of it, even though it had been very long ago. His eyes met mine, "Were you happy at your uncle and aunt's?" he asked, I replied that I was very content, but he would not leave it there. "Only content?" he asked.

"Yes sir, my aunt and uncle are very kind and gentle people. I regretted leaving them" I said.

"You still left" he pointed out dryly, I was beginning to get indignant.

"I did not belong there"

"How is that? Surely they did not exclude you, being such kind compassionate people that you describe"

"No, they never excluded me. They treated me like another daughter"

"Then why did you leave?"

I did not know how to explain, deciding instead to look at the fire.

"And now you are fascinated with the fire" he commented.

My eyes must have reflected the passion of the fire, for when I lifted my eyes to meet his, he smirked. "Or perhaps, you just have nothing to say. I'm surprised, for you seem like the kind of girl that will always have a comeback of some kind. " he said softly, his own eyes showing a certain amount of vulnerability, which quickly disappeared. He looked to the flames himself.

I scoffed, "Perhaps sir, some things are better left unsaid. Though it seems to me as if it is you who is now fascinated by the dancing flames. Or perhaps have nothing to say either" I said, using his words against him. He looked to me, "Indeed, for your eyes do spark and flame with irritation. Though you obviously have not swallowed your tongue" he noted. I smiled, "No sir, even though my tongue is willful, and sharp. It will not bend, not even to my will. A fault of mine I'm afraid, for sometimes it is better to simply hold one's tongue." I replied.

"Yes, I can see that for myself." he said softly, quite different from when I had entered the room. He said nothing following, and I stood to excuse myself. He looked up at me, "You never answered my question Miss Allen" he said, I did not understand what he meant. "Why did you leave your family in Northampton? And why did you go so far away?" I inhaled sharply, I had hoped that he would have forgotten. To no avail, as I could now see.

"You are running from something" he declared, I shook my head. "No, sir. For I have nothing to run from" I said. His look was skeptical, "Nothing to run from" he repeated, he folded his hands.

"Have you ever been in love Miss Allen?"

"No, sir" I said, I knew I was lying, but I reasoned that it was never love.

"Do you have any siblings?" he asked, for what goal, I did not know.

"Yes sir. Three"

"What are their names?"

I did not see a reason not to answer, though his line of questioning had thrown me off.

"Elizabeth, Anne, and George"

"Are they older or younger than yourself?"

"Elizabeth is older, and married, she lives in Scotland now. Married to a banker." I referred to her husband, Harvey McCray's profession with disdain. But if he heard the tone in my voice, Mr. Rochester did not comment.

"Anne and George are younger. By two and six years, respectively" I finished. He did not reply immediately.

"What did they think of your suitor?" he asked.

"George was rather protective, and did not trust him, quite right to be so. Though Eliza and Anne believed him to be rather amiable. I would have agreed a year ago. But now-" I stopped short, my eyes widening as I realized that he had gotten the answer to his first question. I reddened, realizing that his smug look was related to my answer "Sir!" I exclaimed, "That was unfair, you tricked me into answering your question from before" I said.

He raised a brow, "You weren't going to answer when I was asking outright, therefore, I had to be inventive. You said you weren't running, though it was obvious that you were." he declared, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

I was outraged, but would not show it. This job was too important for me to express complete irritation at my employer. I instead, just stared at him, my anger was too intense for words. I suppressed my wrath, deciding that I needed to go to bed, to think, for I did not believe that I would sleep. The question was, how do I tell him goodnight?

"You watch me very closely Miss Allen. And on any other occasion, I would assume it was because you thought I was handsome." he paused, and I readied my reply for when he was done. "However, in this situation, I would assume that it is because you have something to say, and have not quite concluded on how to say it"

"Indeed sir, though allow me to answer for both options." he watched me, and motioned for me to continue "As for the first occasion, I have this to say. Although there is a quality about you which some may call handsome, I myself do not think as others do. Alas, for I have never been a great judge of beauty, and view that every person is exactly what God intended. Therefore, we are all handsome, are we not?" I replied, but did not give him time to answer.

"As to the second, I would say only this. I am surprised at your perspicacity, and I would say that I was indeed questioning just how to excuse myself, without sounding as if I was 'running away' from the conversation" I said, preparing myself for anything he might say. I did not think of any consequences from my tone, or way of speaking. For although I was raised to be polite, it was a different thing dealing with such a man.

"You wish to be excused?" he asked, I nodded in assent. "You do not like where the conversation was leading?" I closed my eyes, he did not understand. "No sir, I am tired" I declared quietly.

Mr. Rochester stood, and I followed suit. "Goodnight then, Miss Allen. May you have pleasant dreams" he said, walking out of the room, and leaving me to myself. I looked back at the fire. I was sure that my momentary lapse of judgment, my willful and insubordinate tongue had cost me the job which I had worked so hard to attain. I would have to go back to Northampton, a failure.

This was all Charles Nelson's fault. Damn the man. I would never forgive him.

Speaking of men, I had one conclusion when it came to Mr. Rochester. He was one of the strangest man whom I had ever had met.

I did not have much time to think on this however, as Mrs. Fairfax reentered the room. I was about to ask if I could stay the night, and I would leave at dawn the next morning, when she smiled widely. "Congratulations my dear." she said, I was aghast, and said not a word. "Mr. Rochester has instructed me to take you to your room. You are to meet Miss Adele tomorrow, that is what he said" she gently took my arm, leading me out of the room.

"Mr. Rochester accepted me as a governess?" I asked, I was still incredulous. Mrs. Fairfax looked at me as if I had lost my mind, "Why of course he has! I knew when I first saw you that you would be accepted. He was quite decisive, 'Mrs. Fairfax, lead her to her room. She has earned a good night's rest'" she said, leading me up the stairs, I followed dumbly, for I could not believe that after my conversation, he would still hire me.

She opened the door at the far hall, "Here you are, my dear" she said, letting me go in. I looked around, it was beautiful. "I hope you like it, it is not the original governess' quarters, but I thought it would suit you" Mrs. Fairfax told me. I nodded, "Yes, thank you. It will do quite well" I assented, she smiled, "Goodnight dear" and she was gone.

* * *

I was soon tucked safely in bed, going over the conversation once more. I regretted some things I said, and I wished I had said others. I was worried that I would awake, and realize that it was all a dream, that I had fallen asleep downstairs, and that Mr. Rochester had fired me. But, I had decided, that if it was a dream, I was going to enjoy every last bit.

I fell asleep with one thought on my mind: Thank God that's all over. At once, I fell asleep; dreams of brides, and asylums plaguing me.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I do not own Jane Eyre, I just own Mary Allen, her family, and anyone else not recognizable. **

* * *

I was aroused from my deep sleep by the sound of a music box. Opening my eyes, I was momentarily disoriented by the room which I didn't recognize. The sound of the music box, still had not faded. Upon further inspection of the room I saw a little girl sitting at the foot of my bed, the music box that my father had given to me when I was young, open in her lap.

I sat up, catching her attention immediately. She smiled widely, jumping off my bed and curtsying. "Good morning Mademoiselle" she said, I smiled, she reminded me of Anne at her age. "Good morning, you're Adele, aren't you?" she nodded enthusiastically. "Oui, I am Adele. You are Mademoiselle Marie Allen" she said, using the French version of my name.

It was in this moment that I realized that, upon my applying for the job, I was unaware that she spoke mostly french, and was all too uneasy about my relative ignorance in the language. She touched my face gently, "You are prettier than Mademoiselle Jane." she told me, I concluded that she must have been speaking of her previous governess, but I decided to make sure. "Is Mademoiselle Jane your previous governess?" I asked her.

She sighed sadly, "Oui Mademoiselle, she left a few months ago." she said, walking over to the music box. I wanted to ask her why Mademoiselle Jane had left, but decided that it would be better to ask Mrs. Fairfax. I peeled back the coverlet, and began to get dressed – Adele picking out what I would wear for the day. "Wear this one" she said, picking out one of my brighter dresses. My favorite blue muslin frock. I chuckled, ordinarily I would not conform to another's wishes, but she was insistent and I found that I could not refuse her.

As I was pinning my hair up, Adele began to go through my sketches. "Mon dieu! You sketch like her as well" she exclaimed, I had begun to get used to the fact that Adele was comparing me to this mysterious 'Mademoiselle Jane'. She looked up just as I was finishing my hair, "You do your hair differently than she does." I smiled, I was obviously much different than this 'Jane'.

"Adele?" I asked, she looked up from my things, "What has Mademoiselle Jane taught you?" I asked, I needed to know my difficulties. She shrugged, "She taught me how to speak English much better than before. I can now do simple arith-ar-ari" "Arithmetic" I supplied, "Oui. Bah, I cannot pronounce the word still. There is nothing simple about the word arith-matich" "Arithmetic" I said once more, she nodded, "Oui, that one. Why don't we use the other word?" I was confused, "Which one?" I asked, "The one that begins with a 'm'" I smiled, fastening my locket around my neck.

"Mathematics?" I said. Adele nodded vigorously, "Oui, matamatic" I laughed, she was adorable. "Oui, mathematics." I replied. "What else did she teach you?" Adele replied that she did not know, then exclaimed excitedly, "Oh, she also taught me the atlas." she said, I nodded. Simple enough for a schoolgirl, I reasoned.

I had finished dressing, and decided to go down to breakfast. Adele followed me, speaking a great deal about her 'mama' who had gone to the holy virgin. She spoke of Mr. Rochester very little, and what she spoke of him only intrigued me to find out more. I reached the dining room, but found it to be deserted. "Adele? What time is breakfast served?" I asked. She looked up at me, then looked around the room, as if the tapestry would give her an answer.

"Mr. Rochester ate his breakfast at 8 o'clock" Mrs. Fairfax's voice supplied, I had not seen her come in. "Good morning Mrs. Fairfax" I greeted, she smiled warmly, "Good morning Miss Allen. I trust you slept well?" I told her that I had a very good night's sleep, and explained how I was awoken. She looked at Adele, "Miss Adela, you should not have woken Miss Allen" she began to chastise.

"Its alright Mrs. Fairfax, it was a pleasant surprise" I said, interrupting her. She looked at me, "Yes. Well, now that you're awake, I will have the cook bring you some breakfast. I, myself, have not eaten either, for I was waiting for you" she said, going out the door that she entered. I looked at the clock, it was not a quarter past nine. At Branhurst Hall, my Aunt enjoyed her breakfasts at 9 – punctually. I walked to the window, enjoying the view from there, for it was beautiful – looking out on the moors. Adele joined me, talking of how Mademoiselle Jane loved taking walks.

Mrs. Fairfax returned soon enough, bustling about in a manner befitting a housekeeper. She sat down, and I followed suit, watching as Adele sat down with the refinement which I had only seen in my cousins. I remembered that I must write a letter, to inform my family that I was well, but that would have to wait until later. Breakfast came, and we began eating in silence. Quite the opposite of what I was used to, for in the Polk household, there was always some form of conversation that was inviting.

I faintly heard a door slam, followed by the peaceful playing of the pianoforte in the drawing room. I chuckled, "Well, his mood changes like the ebbing of the tide, doesn't it?" I commented. Mrs. Fairfax looked at me, "Yes, well, I suppose it does. I have just been so long in his employ that I do not notice it. Miss Eyre always noticed his abrupt and changeable behavior, she was the one who really made me aware of it. " she said, being silent once more. "Miss Eyre?" I asked, I assumed that Miss Eyre was the very same Mademoiselle Jane. But I was not completely sure.

Mrs. Fairfax looked at me, "Jane Eyre. She was your predecessor. She left a few months ago, after – well, her and the Master didn't agree on something" she said, confirming my opinion that Miss Eyre and Mademoiselle Jane were the same person. Didn't agree? That was a strange turn of phrase. I stayed silent however, although my curiosity had sparked an interest in this relationship with my employer and my predecessor.

Breakfast finished with no more conversation, for there was a tension in the air that could be cut with a knife. I concluded that it had to do with Jane Eyre, and perhaps with the fact that I had filled her place, but that I was much different. I began to wonder just who this Miss Eyre was, that everyone admired her, yet no one wished to speak of her.

I was conducted by Adele to the schoolroom, though it seemed more like a library. Although most shelves were closed behind glass, there was one bookcase left open. It contents were enough to sustain me for some time, however, I knew that I would be through with them relatively soon, and would require more material. Alas, I had been spoilt by the library at Branhurst, which was vast and free be perused at will.

"How does Mademoiselle like the schoolroom?" Adele asked me, I smiled, "Its perfect" I replied, settling myself at a table, ready to examine the thoroughness of Miss Eyre's tutorship.

* * *

A few hours passed, in which I discovered that Adele had been taught well. No doubt from Miss Eyre's help. I must admit, I was grateful to her, for she had done the initial teaching, which I was often unsure of how to begin. I sent Adele to her nurse at 3 o'clock, and decided to go outside and enjoy the weather – for it was a beautiful day.

As I approached my room I saw Mr. Rochester exit the room opposite the hallway. His stone-cold eyes took in my appearance, "I take it that Adele's tutoring is over for now" he stated, I assented.

"How do you plan to occupy your time until dinner?" he asked.

I informed him that I intended to enjoy the day, and was just fetching my portfolio and pencils. He started, "You sketch?" he asked, I replied that I did. His eyes hardened, but his lips were smirking.

"And what do you sketch Miss Allen?"

"Do you wish me to show you?" I asked, he replied that he would, but 'Would I meet him in the drawing room, for he did not wish to stand in the hallway for an eternity' I agreed, entering my room to do as I was bid.

When I had fetched my sketchbook, I went down the stairs, and found him – once more – in the chair from the evening before. "Sit down Miss Allen." he commanded, his tone forceful. I did not do as ordered, instead I looked at him, he realized that his tone had caused for me not to obey. "Will you have a seat, Miss Allen?" he asked gently, and I obeyed, taking the seat which I had occupied before.

He chuckled, "Forgive me, Miss Allen, I am used to having my orders obeyed no matter the tone. I forget that you were raised in a gentleman's house, and therefore, are not used to being ordered around" he said, "Though, I must admit, that I am used to my tone - and I will tell you now - I will not change for one new person." he declared.

I smiled, "I understand sir, and although I do not particularly enjoy being ordered about, I will make an exception" I told him, he looked at me incredulous, "How kind of you" he mocked. I raised a brow, and sighed, "Come Jane – forgive me, Miss Allen – show me your sketches. Let us see if you are as good as some" he said. I knew he referred to my predecessor, but said nothing, handing him my portfolio.

He went over them briefly, starting them on his left hand, and moving them to his right, face down. He said nothing, though his scrutiny was obvious.

"You draw a great deal of portraits miss Allen" he commented.

"I find people are the most fascinating object to draw. Their countenances are all different, they are all peculiar in their own right." I replied.

He continued, stopping on one particular portrait. "Is this your mother Miss Allen?" he asked softly, showing me the paper. "Yes" I replied, he flipped the page over once more. "You take after her immensely. I'm surprised that you remember her as much as this" he said. I smiled, "I drew it a few years after her death, I could not forget her face. Nor did I wish to, so I copied her likeness so I would never forget" I told him. "I can see that, you took great pains with the eyes, as they are more detailed than any other feature" he pointed out.

"I find that eyes are the most fascinating thing to observe. For it is said that they are the windows to the soul, the first thing I notice about any person is their eyes. Within them is every thought, every feeling, whether it be anger or vulnerability." I said, remembering the look in his eyes that I had observed on a few occasions that day. He looked at me, that very look I was describing in those pools of blue.

"What a person is, what they believe. I think is in their eyes. Who they are, will be revealed there" I said, his eyes bore into mine, "And tell me, Miss Allen," he began, leaning forward in his chair, "What do you find in my eyes?" I smiled, shaking my head slightly. "Anger, disappointment – but only at intervals. The very vulnerability I described I have seen. Distrust" he leaned back into his chair, folding his hands.

"You are like many, you don't understand a person like me" he said, "Nor will I sir," I replied, "For you will not let anyone past your guards. What has happened in your life? I don't know. Because of it, you are the man who you are. But if you hold on to it, and do not let anyone get past that which you have built to protect yourself – no one will understand you"

He closed my portfolio, holding it out for me to take. I stood, reaching to seize it, but his grip on it was firm, he had something to say. "Go enjoy your sunshine, for it will allow you to understand it. I, however, will not." he said, letting go and turning his gaze to the fireplace.

I curtsied, and withdrew from the room. When I reached the garden, I began my sketch. I drew the one person who was on my mind at that moment. And his likeness, I must admit, I made much happier than the tortured soul that he was.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I do not own Jane Eyre, etc. **

* * *

Over the next few weeks, my days became easier to maneuver. I was learning the ways of Thornfield quickly, and doing my best to adapt to them. I soon found that Adele was a most apt negotiator. She and I had made a bargain. If she did her lessons well, without complaint, and did her best to apply herself – I would teach her the piano. A joyous thing which I soon found my afternoons occupied with, for she insisted on learning immediately after her lessons every day.

On more than one occasion, during Adele's piano lessons, Mr. Rochester happened upon us. He would sit in his chair by the fire, and listen to our progress, saying little, and observing much. My initial reaction was one of annoyance, for I was (and always will be) a perfectionist. I do not wish for others to observe until I have perfected whatever art I have set my mind to.

Therefore, his visits were often followed by my insecurity, expecting at any moment, for him to correct me. For I had discovered, quite by accident, that he was an accomplished musician. A terrific bass, powerful, and filled with the passion that any singer should possess. However, more often than not, his voice was occupied by melancholy tunes. I wished that something would possess him to sing a delightful song, something not filled with woe. Alas, my wishes were in vain.

As it happened one day, Adele had decided that she wished to go outside with her nurse, instead of accompany me to the piano. For once I was grateful, for one can only tolerate so much of bad notes, and correcting. However, I went to the piano myself, playing a little tune which my father loved so dearly. It had no words, but the feeling which it emitted, sang more than any words could express.

As my heart and soul poured out on the keys, with every memory, sweet and blissful, that I had of my father – I felt the distinct feeling of being watched. Upon a glance at the mirror that was off to the side of the piano, I saw the reflection of Mr. Rochester. He observed me, but his face show no emotion. His ear most attuned to the elegance of music, it would seem as if he enjoyed the rhythmic dance which my fingers performed.

I do not think that he knew that I was aware of his presence, for when I was finished, he stood stone still. Almost as if he was wanting me to continue, for he must have perceived that: if he made his presence known, that I would immediately stop, for embarrassment's sake.

I turned in my seat, and we stayed, for a moment, in tense silence. "You play very well, Miss Allen. No doubt as consequence of your own governess, hammering into your head the importance of rhythm and fluency." he said. I smiled, "Indeed, for she was an exacting task master. And if I did not practice, she considered that I must be ill, and made me stay abed all day" I replied.

His small smile was enough to inform me that he was amused by what I had said. In a few short strides, he made his way to a chair, not much different than the one in the drawing room, for we were in the library. He said nothing, just watched me. I lowered my eyes, scrutinizing his boots. He had been riding, that much was obvious.

"I have examined Adele" he began after a few moments time, calmly taking a sip of his sherry. "You have taken great pains to teach her. And, despite your youth, you seem to be quite qualified to deal with her in a manner most efficient. She has improved, both in her regular studies, and in her musical."

I was surprised as I realized that he had just paid me another compliment. "Thank you sir, I take great pride in being able to teach her in a manner that she understands. It helps that Miss Eyre had already taught her much" I said, however, my mentioning his previous governess seemed to anger him.

"Yes, Miss Eyre was quite good at teaching Adele. The girl learned much under her tutorship. Unfortunately, Miss Eyre is no longer here. You are" he said, a certain amount of bitterness leaking into his tone.

My initial feeling was that of rejection, for it was obvious that he wished Miss Eyre had stayed. "We all have our different ways of teaching sir, for we are all different, we all apply the same lessons in a different manner." I said in my defense, but Mr. Rochester chuckled, "Have I wounded your pride Miss Allen? By expressing my wish that Miss Eyre had stayed on?" he asked.

"Not in the least sir, for according to what I have heard, Miss Eyre was quite the lady. It would be hard for any woman, young or old, to be able to take her place" I replied, though what I said, and what I felt were at odds.

"You see Miss Allen, even though you are quite good at teaching Adele. You are not as good as Miss Eyre, you must be improved as much as Adele must be improved. You are, in a way, teaching each other. You are teaching her from a older view, while she is teaching you how to deal with a younger person. For you are still quite immature. It will assist you when you move on to your next post." he said.

While I knew what he told me was true, the way he said it, caused for my heart to beat in anger. I despised being immature, even though I knew that at times my age showed is ugly face. It was true, he had injured my pride, but I had already learned from previous encounters, that Mr. Rochester was only wishing to help. Albeit, in a very strange and injurious manner. I wondered if he knew that the way he spoke caused for people to dislike him?

"Have I offended you Miss Allen? For it was not my intent. Speak, for I see that your eyes express a certain amount of emotion. " he asked, I smiled to myself, "I would be a liar to say that what you said did not upset me to a degree. But I must admit my surprise, for very few employers would trouble themselves with the feelings of those who they have hired. After all, sir, you pay me 30 pounds a year to take your orders, and criticism without question" was the reply.

He chuckled, "And yet, you do question my orders, quite frequently as a matter of fact" he said, I was quite in readiness with an answer.

"There are two types of orders, sir. One, I obey, for it is a lawful and understandable order. I do not question it, for I know from what it springs, and for what end it is made. The other, I do not follow without understanding, or questioning, for I perceive it as being unreasonable. I do not follow unreasonable orders, for they are made without a mind. And I do not wish to follow nonsensical whims fitting only to one person's fancy" I told him.

"Upon my word Miss Allen, you speak your mind in a most decisive manner, for so young a person"

"Indeed sir, for I do not speak, unless my mind is decided. For to speak when one is still in conflict, is a sure sign of disaster. The opinions of those who are undecided, tend to be broken down with the slightest inclination of ridicule"

"And do you think that I mean to ridicule you?"

"No, I do not believe that you truly wish to injure anyone. However, your manner of address, often sparks a reaction of defense"

"I cannot change my manner, not for the few who view themselves above reproach. I believe that those who cannot bear criticism ought to learn to."

"Criticism is good in its own right, but if a person concerns themselves only with faults, how will they ever see each other's virtues?"

"You view me as only seeing faults?" he asked, his tone one of curiosity, which confused me immensely.

"I view you as pointing out fault for the benefit of others. How they perceive it, however, is that you wish not to see their virtues"

"You are speaking of Adele, are you not?"

"Aye sir." I could not lie, it was Adele to whom I was referring.

"You believe that I am hard on her?"

"I believe sir, that you care for her sincerely. Or else, you would not have brought her here – under your roof." I said.

"But you think that I should deal differently?"

"What I think matters not" was my reply,

"I am asking you Miss Allen, do you think that I should deal with Adele in a different way than I do?" he persisted.

I concluded it would be more beneficial to simply tell him my thoughts on the matter.

"I think sir, that you care for her, as I said before. But that you have already seen her faults, her similarities to her mother perhaps, which have caused for you to decide that she must be taught a different life. You hate what she was taught by her mother, but you do not hate her. You forget, sir, that just living in this place will already make her different than her mother. The life you have provided for her, will cause for her to be raised with different morals than those which she was born with."

He stared at me, his mind comprehending my words. "You have been thinking about this for a long time haven't you?" he asked. I flushed, looking at the rug, "Yes sir, I often take time to observe before I create an opinion." I replied. "You have observed me and my behavior often enough, and Adele's reaction to my behavior." he sighed.

"I cannot change my behavior toward the child, and you do not understand the circumstances in which she was brought" I replied that 'I did not know them, but nonetheless, that did not excuse the behavior' he laughed outright. "Her mother insisted that the child was mine, but I was convinced otherwise. I took the child, like you said, to give her a different upbringing than that which she would have suffered in France. Still, you do not understand my predicament."

"You believe that I do not understand it, that does not make the statement true" he was about to reply when the door flew open. "Mademoiselle Marie!" Adele shouted, running toward me; she had not seen Mr. Rochester yet. "Adele!" he barked, she slid to a halt, her face one of sadness. She believed that she had done something to anger him.

"Forgive me Monsieur Rochester" she said immediately, I looked to him, my disapproval evident on my features. She was only a child after all, a child who wanted only his love. What she did not understand is that he did love her, he was just terrible at showing it. "What is it Adele?" I asked softly, her eyes wide with fear, she approached me, a letter held in her outstretched hand. "This came for your Mademoiselle" she said.

I took the letter, noting that the handwriting was that of my Aunt. I looked to Mr. Rochester, "If you'll excuse me sir" he waved his hand with a gruff 'certainly' I curtsied and left, Adele in tow.

* * *

"I did not mean to anger him" Adele said in french, once we were out of the hearing of the library. I sighed, she truly did not understand. "You did not anger him Adele. He simply did not want you running in the house." I explained, in english. She shook her head, "He is always like that. He does not like me" I stopped her from walking, turning her to face me.

How could I make her understand? "Adele, Mr. Rochester loves you, dearly. You are like a daughter to him. He simply does not know how to express it" I told her, wincing, for I knew that what I said made no sense to the child. She scoffed, confirming my thought, "He was much kinder when Mademoiselle Jane was here." she muttered, opening the door to my room and waltzing in.

I could only hope that one day Mr. Rochester would express his caring for Adele. For her opinion of him, was faulty indeed. No child should fear their guardian as much as she feared him. In that moment, I decided, I would do my best to help them understand each other.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I don't own Jane Eyre**

* * *

I couldn't sleep. My mind was a tempest, each thought making itself known by the torrent it produced. There had to be a way to bring about joy into this household that had been, obviously, struck by misery's rough, and unforgiving hand. What could I do? I didn't know. At one point that night, I thought that I could sleep on it. How wrong I was. Alas, sleep's reconciling slumber evaded me.

Instead, I watched the flames in my room grow ever-less. I had to have an answer to my questions. I had to know what it was about my predecessor that caused for this house to, from my information that Adele gave, go from joyful and loving, to a house filled with fear. Fear that would drive anyone to madness. Indeed, I wondered if my Master had already been driven to it by the loneliness this cold house provided. What had done it? What horrors untold could be hiding in the secrets which refused to be revealed? Why was he so? Why did Adele believe that he wished to send her away? And the most curious question of all:

Who was Jane Eyre?

For one reason or another, I was convinced that my questions would never be answered. For Mr. Rochester had made it clear, he did not wish to be understood. And yet, he still spoke to me. He still asked for my opinion, when it was clear that it would only disturb him. He listened intently, although every time he would contradict what I said with a sharp reply. On one turn, he seemed to trust me with the thoughts of his heart; and the next, would tell me to leave it alone.

He was a strange man, who – it seemed – only needed a equally challenging mind to melt his hard exterior. He was as hard as diamond. But, and I realized this often, this diamond in the rough, only needed perseverance to show off its true beauty. For on the outside he seemed a monster, but I had seen the caring thoughts toward Adele, even though she was blind to it. I had seen the concern he felt for Mrs. Fairfax, although she was only the housekeeper. And I had seen his hurt over Miss Eyre, whatever she had done.

Therefore, my question still stood:

Who was Miss Eyre?

* * *

Mrs. Fairfax was waiting for me when I went down to breakfast. Adele and Mr. Rochester were noticeably absent, and after inquiries, I was informed that Mr. Rochester had taken Adele early that morning to go riding. My surprise was momentary as I soon realized it made for the best situation in which to speak to Mrs. Fairfax alone.

She began quite courteously, asking how I was getting on here at Thornfield. I could only reply with raptures, telling her of my comfort, and admiration of this grand place which I found myself employed. She was satisfied, her pleasure at my answers was evident. Our tete-a-tete lasted a bit longer, but I was anxious to have my own curiosity satisfied.

I began with my absolute praise of Adele's, already in place, ethics. I was sure to stress that I believed, were Miss Eyre here, she would be excessively proud of her young pupil's appliance of her former governess' lessons.

Mrs. Fairfax smiled, "Yes, she always was proud of Adele. To hear your praises of her, would have made Miss Eyre quite happy" she said demurely. There it was, the opportunity I had been waiting for, "Mrs. Fairfax," I began, she looked at me, quite warmly. I shuddered, and doubted that she would look at me with warmth after our little discussion.

"What was she like? Miss Eyre I mean" I asked, I hoped that she did not view it as threatening.

"She was a very quiet sort of person, very gentle, and kind. She knew her own mind, and wasn't afraid to speak it. She was very much like you, she had an independent will. She knew she was a free-born human being, as was not afraid to use her freedom" Mrs. Fairfax described, the last bit softer. Indeed, Jane Eyre had used her freedom.

"That room upstairs, the one that Mr. Rochester often visits – across from my room – what is it?" I asked.

"That was the old governess' room. Why?" she replied at length, her answer short and curt.

"I was just curious, for when I arrived you told me that my room wasn't the original governess'. I was wondering, why is it that I was placed in different quarters than those which were relegated for the governess?" I asked carefully.

Mrs. Fairfax didn't reply immediately, "The master simply didn't want it. He wished for you to be placed in your room now. After all, Miss Eyre was very -" she cut herself short, "He believed that you would be more comfortable where you are now" she said, finishing her breakfast.

What a strange notion. Miss Eyre was very. . .what? That incited my next question.

"Mrs. Fairfax, what sort of a relationship did Miss Eyre have with the Master?" I asked, almost regretting my words as I spoke them. "I don't know what you mean" she replied, but her eyes averted, she was hiding something.

"Why did Miss Eyre leave?" I asked, unsure of how my frankness would resound with the elderly lady.

She spluttered in indignation, "You are quite direct in your question Miss Allen" she said, I lowered my eyes to my plate. "Yes Ma'am, it is a question which has been on my mind since I arrived" I stated, returning my brown gaze to her blue. She stared, "I told you before Miss Allen, Miss Eyre and the Master had a disagreement" she said, willing to leave the conversation there.

"About what?" I challenged, she knew more than she was wanting to express.

"Miss Allen, that is the Master's business. You should not be asking such questions, they are none of your affair." she replied, finality in her tone. It was clear we would not be discussing anything about Jane Eyre in the continuation of the morning.

My curiosity, however, only increased. What kind of relationship did Jane Eyre have with Mr. Rochester? I would know. I was determined, I would know. But for now, reconciliation was in order. I quickly asked for Mrs. Fairfax's forgiveness, and my solemn oath that I would no longer speak of the matter.

She was glad of it, but she looked at me warily. I would have to be more careful in the future.

* * *

Later that morning, while Mrs. Fairfax was seeing to matters in the kitchen, I made the sudden decision to see the 'old governess' room. I stole upstairs, careful that no one saw me, not that I was particularly worried. After all, my room was across the hallway, if I was seen, I would give the explanation that I was going to my room. Logical to be sure.

As I stepped onto the landing, I became concerned. Perhaps it would be best to simply turn around and forget my motivation to go into the room which seemed sealed off. I stood there, unable to move due to indecision. My conscience nagged, and told me to follow Mrs. Fairfax's advice. To keep my nose out of trouble – but that was a coward's way, I reasoned. I wouldn't shirk, and decided to move forward, with the hesitation of a Captain in battle, unsure of my fate.

My heart thumped loudly, like the banging of the drums of Africa, as I moved forward. I approached the door, and wondered vaguely what was behind it – the lady or the tiger? My hand stretched out, my fingers barely hovering over the knob. Any last reservations had to be admitted now, for it was my only chance. What if what I found, I wished for all eternity that I hadn't?

As if something else propelled me to finish what I started, I turned the knob, and cursed the creaking hinges. I looked on the landing once more, no one was there. One last thought fluttered through my mind, was I breaking Mr. Rochester's trust by going into this room? What if he found me here? Then what? Would what I had worked hard to build, come tumbling down? But I had to know. I had to know what had happened. Didn't I?

With a resigned sigh, I relinquished my hold on the doorknob. My chest heaved, my breaths were short but heavy. I rested my hand on the wall beside the door, I wouldn't do it. All this concern, yet I didn't think of things which were larger than myself. I didn't think of the repercussions if I had gone in. What would Mr. Rochester say? I didn't want to know, for if I had been discovered, his disappointment would have cut me like a knife. Why? I couldn't tell.

I slowly, deliberately, walked away from the door, part of me still wanting its curiosity satisfied. Yet, I decided that time would tell the past's story. What if, what I found was nothing? What if it was nothing more than a barren room, and I had risked my neck for satisfaction of something that wouldn't help at all? I laughed at myself, I had been a fool, a fool who would have never forgiven herself had she followed through with her original plan.

As I approached the landing below, Mr. Rochester was just coming up. "Ah, Miss Allen" he said, but as he beheld me, his eyes turned to concern. "Whats wrong? You're as white as a sheet" he said, coming closer to me, he took my hands. Dear God how could I answer his question? My thoughts were in as much confusion as autumn leaves blowing, mingling together. "No—nothing, sir" I replied, seizing my hands to myself.

"Are you sure Miss Allen? You look as if you've seen a ghost" he persisted, looking up to the floor above. "No sir, I'm fine. How was your ride?" I asked, steering the questions away from myself.

Mr. Rochester was not convinced, but did not press the matter further. "Very enjoyable, you can ask Adele as many questions as you like. The weather is pleasant enough, I'm surprised I didn't see you out there. That is why I came up here directly" he told me, I insisted that I was well, and inquired as to where Adele was. He informed me that she was in the school room, "Thank you, sir. I'll go to her now" I said, going past him.

He caught my arm, "Miss Allen, wait" I stopped, turning to face him again. "Mrs. Fairfax told me that you were asking questions. About Miss Eyre." he said, I sighed, "Yes sir, I did. And I'm sorry if I have offended you, I fully -" he stopped me, and I was prepared to have him be disappointed. I deserved it, for my trust was obviously not enough. What he said, however, surprised me.

"When the time comes, you will have all the answers you desire" he stated, I stared up at him, for he was somewhere around a foot taller. "Until you give me the answers sir, I shall not seek them" I promised, for what he said confirmed my thoughts precisely.

"You trust me?" he asked.

I smiled, "No sir, for you are not to be trusted at all" was my smart reply. He smiled.

"Go down to your pupil, she is waiting for you" he said, releasing my arm.

"Yes sir" I said, descending down the stairs.

* * *

In a few moments, I was facing the young girl herself, who was all to glad for the outcome of the morning. My thoughts however, wandered to Mr. Rochester. I thought of one thing, when I was on the stairs, for a moment I fancied that his voice floated once more, as if he wished that he could reach the person that he so desperately needed.

I had heard him whispering a faint echo of 'Jane'


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: Refer to all previous chapters, as I will not post this 'disclaimer' again. Many happy returns of the day. :D**

* * *

July soon turned to August. August to September. The conversations between Mr. Rochester and myself occurred quite frequently. And every evening, I was left with more questions than I started off with that morning. His cordiality did not increase, and I had come to terms with the fact that, perhaps it never would. He still gave orders, which, on occasion, I refused to obey. He went with it in stride, often making a comment about how stubborn I was. But it seemed as if he, in one way or another, found amusement in my stubbornness.

Adele increased in her studies, and soon, began to believe that Mr. Rochester did care for her. A triumph for me. The reason being that over those three months, I worked hard to make her opinion of Mr. Rochester better than what it was.

I oftentimes wondered, what would have happened if I had looked behind the door, which I now had sworn never to open? What if Mr. Rochester had found me there? But, he didn't, and for that I was grateful. As he said, I would know all in good time. Whether it was from him or another, I worried not.

September became October. Along with all its delights. Adele could now play a piece a virtuoso would be proud of. If not a virtuoso, at least Miss Gold would be proud. For she had drummed it into my head the importance of practice, and if she saw me now, would be ecstatic. Not that Miss Gold was the kind of person to show enthusiasm for much of anything.

Mr. Rochester had gone to London, on business. The first time, as I understood, that he left the house after Miss Eyre left. I must admit, it felt as if he had done it because of the improvements that I was making. Perhaps he felt that he could leave to all to my care. But to say so, would be a selfish impediment, one which I soon chastised myself. How could he trust a young girl like me with such responsibility?

It was my nineteenth birthday that October, and to my surprise, Mr. Rochester returned on the day. A great many presents with him. My shock was evident, for he told me that the purpose for his trip was to inquire on some orders that he had made for the occasion. I was overjoyed, and could not help but notice that his attitude toward me, had grown to – and I hate to say this, for it seemed so illogical to me – respect. I actually believed he respected me. Shocking, to be sure.

* * *

Soon, December was approaching. It was always a terrible time for me, for I could not forget the loss that I endured only eight years before. I could not forget Roger, nor did I want to. However, I still found joy in that month, despite all its bad connotations for me. At least thats what I hoped.

It was late November, and I had received a letter from my family, asking when I would be coming. I had replied, that I had to speak to my employer, for only he could give a definite date.

Therefore, I found myself before his study door, knocking loudly. "Come in" came the reply from within. I obeyed, and was soon on the other side of the oak door. "Mr. Rochester, sir?" I greeted, curtsying. Mr. Rochester looked up, "Miss Allen, how can I be of service?" he asked, motioning to the chair opposite of him. He had become much more acquainted with me, and therefore, much friendlier. As much as a rottweiler becomes on friendly terms with a stranger. Yes, Mr. Rochester could be compared to a rottweiler, unfriendly and cold, aloof, and not particularly fond of forming new relationships.

I held a letter in my hand, which I fiddled with as I tried to develop what I wished to say. Mr. Rochester looked at me over his book, "Are you going to actually say something? Or are you simply going to sit there with that look on your face? If the first, do so. If the second, don't waste my time" he said. I sighed, it was only a matter of time before he made a comment like that.

"Sir," I began, "I received this letter from my Aunt Polk, she is inquiring as to when I may be expected in Northampton for the holidays?" I said, he looked over to me, "And?" he asked expectantly, I cleared my throat. He wasn't making this easy, "I am requesting a few weeks leave, so as to visit my family, sir" I said.

Mr. Rochester seemed to consider my request, "How long do you require?" he asked, I shook my head.

"As long as you will give me?" was my reply. He sighed.

"Miss Allen, frankly, I would not give you any time. You are needed here." he said testily, but I knew that was not the end. He knew me well by this time, and I would not let it be the end.

"However, you are also needed by your family. How does three weeks sound?" he asked, I nodded.

"If you are giving me three weeks sir, I shall not complain" I replied.

"Good, then do you not have some writing to do, to tell them that you are decided" he asked, I assented, standing. However, there was one small problem.

"Sir?"

"Yes?"

"I have not yet had my wages, and therefore find my purse rather meager. I was wondering, could I perhaps have them now?" I asked.

He looked at me, his eyes glazed over, he said nothing. "Sir?" I asked concerned.

"Yes, yes." he replied, standing and walking over to his desk. "How much do I owe you?" he asked.

"Fifteen pounds" I said.

"Fifteen pounds?" he repeated strangely. "I thought I owe you thirty?"

I smiled, "The agreement was thirty pounds per annum, I have only been here six months. Therefore, my wages are only fifteen pounds" I said, I had already worked it out before.

"Here's twenty" he said, handing me a note, I shook my head, "Sir, I haven't earned twenty yet, you only owe me fifteen." I replied.

He sighed, shaking his head as if he had endured the same conversation before. "Think of it, as an advancement. Or, if this is more to your liking, a bonus for the extra piano lessons that you are giving Adele" he reasoned.

I shook my head once more, "Piano lessons are a part of the thirty-pounds a year, sir" I insisted. He was beginning to get irate, "Damn it woman" he exclaimed, seizing my hand and shoving the twenty pounds in my palm.

"When I give you twenty pounds, do not question me. I will give you the other fifteen you say that I owe you in June, unless something arises which prevents me. The extra five pounds I wish to give, take it, and say no more" he said with a huff, stalking back to his chair and plopping down with an undignified air.

"Yes sir" I replied with a smile, curtsying and was bout to leave the room when Mr. Rochester's voice stopped me.

"When are you leaving?" he asked. I walked back to his chair to face him, for he was very peculiar about seeing a person face to face. "I was thinking of leaving on the 5th sir, that would give me most of December with my family." I replied, for I had not really considered it fully.

He took my hand, "Branhurst Hall, it must be very different than Thornfield. It must be much more joyful" he said thoughtfully.

I smiled, "A building is a building, sir. It is not the building itself that makes home, but the people who are in it" I replied. His eyes went to mine.

"Your beliefs are similar to your beliefs in beauty." he commented, "In that case, how are the residents of Thornfield Hall?" he asked.

"Thornfield Hall will always be a home to me, sir. For its residents are very loving people, despite their secrets and indifferent attitudes" I replied, he was used to my rather sharp tongue and simply sighed at my reply, I often spoke of his attitude. But he was obviously not in the mood to reply to it.

"Do not stay too long, for an old woman and child are no company for a man of my age" he said, I chuckled, "Three weeks sir" I replied, taking back my hand, and curtsying. I then left the room.

Once again, I could have sworn on my parent's grave, that I heard him say

"Jane my dear, you would be proud of her"

* * *

" _Monday, November 27th, 1848. _

_My dear Aunt Fanny,_

_I am sorry that I have gone this long without writing. However, I now have a date. I shall leave Thornfield on Tuesday the 5th of December. Meaning that I shall arrive at Branhurst Hall by the 7th, Unless of course, the weather prevents me, in which case I shall be there by the 8th or 9th. Mr. Rochester has graciously allowed me three weeks to spend with you. Taking into account the traveling time, that would leave me with precisely 19 days. Nineteen days added to the 7th of December, makes for the 26th to be the day of my removal from Branhurst. The day after Christmas. I sincerely hope that amount of time will do well. _

_Thank you for the information you were so kind to send me. Yes, a ball sounds absolutely delightful. There is little revelry here at Thornfield, and when I heard that you were to give a ball, I was absolutely wild. How kind of you Aunt, for you know how much I love to dance. I was surprised that Eliza would be coming down with the new baby, I shall be happy to see her. Give my love to Georgianna, and as for Hetta I only must say congratulations. I hope that her life will be absolute pleasure with her Mr. Gibson. _

_I am happy to hear that William and Richard will be coming home from college, for I have missed the laughter of Branhurst, and it would not be there without them. Oh my dearest Aunt, I have never been so glad to be at Branhurst. Though I love Thornfield, if lacks the luster of Branhurst Hall. It is the difference between tarnished and untarnished metal. For Thornfield has its tarnishes, and Branhurst shines like mother of pearl. I wish I could bring Mr. Rochester, for the atmosphere of Branhurst would lighten his mood I think. _

_Alas, I do not wish to ask, for he would only tell me how I am obviously more in love with Branhurst than Thornfield. Indeed, I am! Branhurst is one of a kind, not because of Branhurst itself, but because of the family which I love that is there. I miss you all. _

_So, Mr. Nelson is married? I suppose that I should not be surprised, for Mr. Nelson was always a charming and most alluring person. 20,000 pounds. Ha! I am not surprised by that either. He was always ambitious. You can inform Georgianna that there is nothing to fear, I am quite resolved that Mr. Nelson means nothing to me. If she wishes to invite him to the ball, I will not stop her over a little scandal. If he wishes to speak to me, I shall be cordial, in a cold and unfeeling manner, which I know that you are most likely already knowing that I shall do. _

_The more I think of Nelson, the more I consider the fact that I was deceived. He doesn't hold a candle to Mr. Rochester. It would be like comparing Petruchio of Padua to Hortensio or Gremio. Mr. Rochester being Petruchio. For his temperament is much the same. You would like him Aunt Fanny, he is much like Sir John. _

_I shall tell you more when I see you. For my letter is already a few pages long. _

_Your most loving niece, _

_Molly"_

* * *

I quickly sealed the letter, and set off to send it. Humming as I went, for my happiness was beyond compare. I would see my family again, and I couldn't wait to see them once more. I looked back only once, and saw one of the window's curtains open, a face peered out, but disappeared when I saw it. I simply shrugged, going on my way.


	9. Chapter 9

The day for my journey came. I had already arranged with Mr. Rochester for the carriage to take me to Millcote. From there, I would go by post to Northampton. My departure time was at 7 o'clock, but because of the sun not rising until a good 9 o'clock in the morning, it was a dreary and cold beginning.

To my surprise, Adele and Mr. Rochester had gotten up early, and had taken the time to come and breakfast with me. Adele expressed her wish that I would not leave, and Mr. Rochester made it clear that he did not wish to hear of it. His reasoning, I knew not. He was short, courteous, and sharp. A bold combination, but I had found that it made him the unique person who he was.

The most surprising part was the courtesy, a thing which I felt was rather out of place in his character. He was somewhat joyful, which puzzled me. What added to my confusion was his: "Miss Allen, would you please hand me the jam?" I had never heard him say please in my entire acquaintance with him – unless forced.

"Are you alright sir?" I asked, he looked at me as if I was mad.

"Alright Miss Allen? Whatever would give you the impression that I wasn't in my full capabilities?" he asked smartly.

"Nothing sir. You just seem out of sorts" I replied.

"Must be the glorious weather we are experiencing" said he, inciting for me to look out of the window. The wind howled, and the rain pelted. It couldn't be the weather, unless he took some sick pleasure in calamity.

"How long will you stay at Branhurst Hall, Mademoiselle?" Adele asked me, directing my attention toward her. "Three weeks, I shall return somewhere around the 28th of December" I replied, expecting to hear Mr. Rochester's dissatisfied 'hmph' but it never came. "Is there really to be a ball?" she asked excitement seeping out of her smile, I laughed "Yes, dear Adele, there is to be a ball." I replied happily.

"A ball? That must be an enjoyable experience for you Miss Allen. You love music, but do you love to dance?" Mr. Rochester asked. I replied that next to music, and art, it was one of the keenest pleasures I knew. He then commented, "If those were your only pleasures Miss Allen, then your pleasures must have been few and mediocre. Your horizons ought to be widened, for there are more enjoyable things in life than those"

"And what, sir, are those more enjoyable things?" I asked, He stared at me, "Things which you will never know until certain events in your life occur" he said, mysteriously. I was thoroughly confused, but asked no more. I knew that Mr. Rochester had a reputation for being a mysterious man, and therefore, it would be useless to try and understand what he said for the majority of the time.

Sophie then spoke to Adele in hushed and hurried French, I could not understand what was said, but they seemed to receive enjoyment from it. They giggled together, and I thought of how they were perfect companions for each other. For Adele was a precocious ten year old, and Sophie often acted younger than her 22 years.

Mr. Rochester and I then ate in silence, though every few minutes I could feel his gaze on me. When I looked up however, his eyes were focused on something else. I didn't know what to think, his manner was so very different than what I had seen over the past 6 months.

* * *

The time then came when I would leave. Adele, however, did not wish to leave my side. She clung ever so tightly to my skirts, saying how she could not wait to see me once more. "I wish that I could see Branhurst" she said mournfully. Her sadness was contagious, and I soon found myself just as depressed as she. I crouched down to her height.

"Maybe one day, Adele, you will see Branhurst. I'll tell you what, when you are older, as long as Mr. Rochester agrees, I shall take you there to see it for yourself." I said, she smiled widely, "You promise Mademoiselle?" she asked, her little eyes pleading. "I promise" was my reply, kissing her forehead and approaching the carriage. Mr. Rochester was already there.

"You should not have promised that" he warned when I approached, I smiled, "When the time comes, I would very much like to take her there. For now, I did not want to crush her hopes." I said, looking back to her.

He took my hand, and helped me into the carriage, then shut the door. "Come back soon" he said once more, I stretched my head out of the open window.

"We'll see each other sooner than you think, sir" I said, he smiled to himself, as if there was a secret only he knew. "Yes. Sooner than you think" he repeated strangely, giving orders to the driver to go.

His face soon disappeared from my view, as his words had struck a chord with me. Whatever did he mean by 'sooner than you think'?

* * *

Two days later, I found myself in more familiar country than I had been in for 6 months. It was midday when the post arrived in Northampton. My nostalgia was quite happy to be there, for everything looked more homey than when I had left. Perhaps it is the old saying, "Absence makes the heart grow fonder" I felt the familiar feeling of eight years wash over me as I walked into the 'Black Lion', and took a seat by the door.

I waited, patiently, for Stevens to come. For Aunt Fanny had informed me that she would send him by 3 o'clock that afternoon. It was 2:47 now, and I knew that I had only a few more minutes to wait. Stevens was always punctual, and for once, I depended on his most constant pattern of being everywhere on time.

However, the minutes seemed to drag, but something happened which brightened my day immensely.

"Miss Molly!" I heard my name called, and turned to see Squire Quincy from nearby Brington. An older gentleman, who had lost his own daughter ten years prior. His wife had, for all intents and purposes, adopted me as another daughter. Although I often found that she called me 'Marge' the name of her own dear daughter.

"Squire Quincy, how good to see you again" I said politely, his home 'Lowton Cottage' was like a second home to me as a child. "Ah, its good to see you here lass. No doubt you're here for the holidays" the Squire said. I assented, informing him that I was there for three weeks. "Three weeks" he repeated, taking the seat opposite from me, "Ah, thats good. I wasn't sure you'd be comin' at all. Living so far away now, you're a governess I 'ear" he said.

"Yes, my employer was quite unhappy to part with me. But, he understood my love of Branhurst Hall, and agreed to allow me to come home." I said.

The Squire laughed, "Allowed you? No one allows you t'do anythin. Why I remember when you were a child, nawt more than eleven, you told my 'Enry that you would not go 'ome until 'is mother was better. 'e was so mad, but then at one of your infamous looks, guffawed louder than I 'ad ever 'eard 'im before." he said.

I vaguely remembered the occasion, and was quick to correct him. "He only laughed, Squire, when I informed him that I was more than happy to beat him in a game of chess if he refused." I said, causing the Squire to bellow harder. "Ah, you and 'Enry always got along well. That was till that Charlie Nelson came along. After that, 'Enry wouldn't even speak of you" he said, I smiled in remembrance of my friend's rather rash attitude. "How is Henry?" I inquired.

The Squire sighed, "'e's doin' well. 'e's going to college now. Cambridge, to be a lawyer. 'is brother though, Giles, 'e's goin to Oxford. They're quite a pair now. 'andsome to be sure" he said. I had always know that the Squire would be more than happy if I had married one of his sons. I had considered it at one point in my life, but Henry and Giles were like brothers to me. I had not seen them for two years, I wondered if they would think me so altered.

"So, 'ows your position at that place in Derbyshire? Are you well looked after?" the Squire asked.

"It is very good, the master is a kind man. Who cannot help but bring me into conversation every evening." I replied.

"Ah," the Squire pointed his finger at me, "Thats because you 'ave a good mind. A mind which oftentimes engages a person into conversation, for no other reason than to 'ear your opinion" he said.

I laughed, "Surely I'm not that interesting a person" I said, he shook his head. "You're a more intelligent lass than you give yourself credit for." he said, looking around.

"Molly, I'm surprised that Stevens isn't 'ere to come for you" his concern was endearing.

"Stevens is due at 3 o'clock Squire, he will be here. But if he doesn't come in time, then perhaps you could take me to Branhurst?" I said, I knew that the Squire was always wanting to help me with anything.

"I would love to take you to Bran'urst, Miss Molly. But lets wait for Stevens, per'aps he will come after all" he said, then continued to speak of other matters. He spoke of how his sons were coming home in a fortnight. And he appointed me messenger to my Aunt, to give an invitation to go to his home for a luncheon when the boys arrived. I was more than happy to do as requested, and told him that I would tell my Aunt as soon as I arrived.

The sound of the door opening and closing caught my attention, and I looked up to see Stevens. He was older than when I had first met him, but the glitter in his eyes was still the same. "Here he is Squire, I suppose we will have to postpone our little ride for another time" I told the Squire, and he agreed that we would have to do so before I left.

With a bow, and a peck on the cheek, he left me, and I walked over to Stevens. "Miss Molly" Stevens exclaimed, taking off his hat. "Hullo Stevens, I hope you didn't have too hard of a time getting here" I said, looking over to the clock – which now showed 3:05. "No Miss, twas a pleasant ride all the way. You'll enjoy it" he replied, taking my bag and leading the way outside.

I followed him across the busy street, smiling all the way. "I'm sorry I was late Miss," Stevens apologized, "but Miss Georgianna insisted on my help with the treating of your saddle. She told me that you would want to be riding by tomorrow" he explained.

I laughed lightly, "Yes, that sounds like Georgianna. How is Gaius?" I asked, the man smiled "He's as feisty as ever. Its almost as if he knew you were coming, cause he's getting restless" he said. I knew what he referred to, and found amusement in it. "That's the third time you've smiled Miss, don't you smile much at that place where you've been?" Stevens inquired.

If only he knew, "No Stevens, I have not laughed heartily for a good six months. Mr. Rochester says that he thinks that I am naturally austere" I said, Stevens looked at me, slinging my bag up next to where he would sit. "Mr. Rochester? Is that the man that you're working for?" he asked, I told him that it was. He looked at me as if he had just made a connection, and quickly helped me into the carriage.

* * *

The trip to Branhurst seemed so short, for we soon pulled up to the door of the Hall. My Aunt, and cousins simply stood there, waiting. I sprang from inside, nearly tripped, and threw myself into my Aunt's embrace. "Aunt Fanny" I breathed, I was overjoyed. "My dear Molly, welcome home" she replied, stepping back. I embraced each of my cousins, greeting them with warm words.

"My dear Georgianna" I said, as we embraced as friends, "Dearest Molly" she replied, "How good it is to see you again. I was quite wild until we received your letters, I thought that you would never come" she said. We laughed together, "Never come Cousin? And why would you think that?" I asked, but she gave no reply.

I then approached my Aunt, she held my face in her hands, her happiness overwhelming. "Come my dear, you must be cold." she said, threading her arm through mine and turning around to enter the house. Arm in arm, we all went in, chattering enthusiastically all the way.


	10. Chapter 10

The next morning I woke to the sound of Georgianna's nimble fingers playing on the piano. Ever since I could remember, it was always our tradition. She would play the piano, I would waken, and together we would wake the whole house with our duet.

I gingerly stood from my bed, and fetched a dress from my wardrobe. I was now so accustomed to dressing myself, that I did not even consider ringing the bell for Katharine as I used to. She however, was used to my habits, and was soon knocking on the door.

"Miss Molly? Are ye awake yet?" she asked through the wood. I opened the door, apologizing immediately, informing her that since I was at Thornfield, I had to learn how to do things myself. I told her that I did not mean to offend, but that I was already dressed. She was an understanding lady, who simply chuckled at my antics. "Very few ladies of the would worry what the maid was or was not offended at. I think you've spent too much time at Thornfield, Miss Molly. For you have quite altered"

"Altered?" I asked, "Why Katharine, whatever do you mean?"

"Nothin much Miss, but you're simpler than you used to be" she said, then considered her words at my plain look of surprise, "I didn't mean it like that. Just look at ye" she ushered me to the mirror.

"And what is so altered, so simpler in me that you have noticed, dear Katharine?" my skepticism was seeping from every pore.

She made a motion with her hand over my dress, which was a dark gray. "You used to wear brighter colors Miss. Blues, and scarlets. Now, you look like Miss Gold!" she exclaimed, as if the very thought was absurd. I laughed heartily, Katharine and Miss Gold never really got along, but they would die for each other.

"And what is wrong with Miss Gold's dresses? Surely they are fine enough for your haughty attitude" we heard at the door. Both of our gazes turned to welcome the newcomer. There Miss Gold stood, her eyebrow levitated a good inch above her hazel gaze. Katherine stuttered an apology and quickly exited the room.

Miss Barbara Gold, had lived with the family for twenty years. She had once been engaged to Sir John's brother. But upon his death, and still loved by the family, she was given the position of governess in the Polk house. For all of her 39 years, she was still considered a beauty. Every man who beheld her, wished her for his own. While every woman envied her, for her manners mingled with that exotic beauty, made her to be quite admired by the menfolk of Northamptonshire.

No woman would dare mention Miss Barbara Gold in front of her husband, lest she soon find herself on the receiving end of a 'Soliloquy of Gold' as my uncle had termed it. However, in her presence, the women dearly loved her. What they did not like was the wandering gazes of their husbands.

I felt sorry for the women of Northampton, for no sooner had I turned the age of sixteen, and obviously of the same manner and character of Miss Gold, than their sons had begun their own soliloquies. Much to my dismay, but it had formed an attachment of friendship, and comradeship, between Miss Barbara and myself

.

When Katharine left, I laughed, amused by the fear that Miss Gold put in most of the servants. They both respected and admired her. She soon joined me in my mirth, walking further into the room. Her forest green dress quietly gliding over the floor, "My dear Molly, welcome home" she greeted, enfolding me in her own arms. "It's good to be back Miss Barbara" I replied cordially.

She took a step back, scrutinizing my appearance, "You are looking a little thin my dear, paler to be sure. Have you not been in the sun much?" she asked, I replied 'that I had been spending less time in the sun, but that I compensated by taking occasional walks to the village' she frowned, "You should walk more often, do you not have a horse there?" she asked.

I scoffed, "A horse Miss Gold? I am but a mere governess, and unlike you, have no prior connections with the Rochester family" I reminded, she nodded in understanding. "To be sure. Tell me, what is your Mr. Rochester like?" she asked, taking my arm and leading me out of the room.

"My Mr. Rochester?" I asked, aghast at her implication.

"Very well, what is your employer, Mr. Rochester, like?" she repeated.

"Abrupt, odd, condescending at times, caring – but no one knows it. Passionate, about certain matters which he alone knows. Indifferent, and at times quite cold. I like to compare him to Sir John's rottweiler, Sargent, you remember him." I said.

Miss Gold chuckled, "Remember Sargent? My dear Molly, who could forget that dog?" she asked rhetorically. We both laughed, remembering the hot tempered, distrusting, loyal and faithful Sargent. "And tell me, is this Sargent handsome?" she asked, I snickered, remembering when he asked me the same question.

"Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder, my dear Miss Gold. Therefore, what one may find handsome, another will find horrid." I replied.

"And is this one handsome or horrid?" she persisted.

I thought for a moment, "He is a man. A strong willed man. With a mind of his own, and respect for anyone who has a mind of their own. He is, in many ways, handsome. In others, not so much. For he has much to be desired." was my thoughtful reply.

She, however, was not satisfied with my answer.

"Yes, but do find him handsome?" was her question, for she intended for me to give a definite answer.

"In my opinion -"

"Is he, or is he not in your opinion?"

"You won't let this go, will you?"

"Not as long as you don't answer me."

"Very well, I believe him to be handsome" I finally replied.

Miss Gold sighed, "Was that so hard?" she asked. I laughed, "We are not of the same station, it is wrong for a paid subordinate to even consider their employer to be attractive or not" I reasoned. She laughed, "Humbug" she stated, "Most paid subordinates consider their employers in a eligible light, at one point or another, if they are not married." she declared. I immediately inquired if she had ever considered Sir John, to which she – in a joking manner – said that he was always safe from her.

* * *

Laughing, we both entered the dining room, causing for the family to greet us. "Good morning Aunt Fanny" I greeted, kissing my dear Aunt on the cheek. She smiled, patting my hand which was on her shoulder, inquiring how I slept. I replied that I had slept well, and was quite impatient to find out what would happen in the day.

Henrietta looked at my quizzically, "Since when have you been interested in what is happening in the day?" she asked, her blue gaze penetrating. I marveled at how life seemed so interesting, compared to Thornfield, Branhurst was loud and full of life. Once again, I wished that Mr. Rochester could experience this, for it had to be an age since he laughed. Genuinely that is.

"Molly?" Henrietta asked again, for in my thoughts, I did not answer. I quickly reiterated all that I thought, excluding my wish for Mr. Rochester to be here. "I'm sure that life is very dull there, at Thornfield" Henrietta said, I gave a slight smile, "It is not as lively as Branhurst, but, it has its own delights. Mr. Rochester isn't all bad" I replied.

"What kind of a person is this Mr. Rochester, Molly? For your letters have been very descriptive, but I'm sure that a face-to-face account will be much more interesting. Tell me, how does he treat you?" Aunt Fanny asked.

"Mr. Rochester." I said slowly, "He is a strange man, Aunt. One moment he is content, and most pleasant. In the most jovial of attitudes, and happy to make conversation about the most trivial of things. Yet, not trivial, for they are most thought provoking. Nay, trivial is not the correct word. He makes conversation on the most personal of levels, wanting to know what you think, or thought, or believe. He is quick to reply. His questions, statements, etcetera; however, are most confusing, for they often tend toward different opinions." I said.

"And on the other hand?" Georgianna asked, inquisitiveness in her eyes.

"The next moment, he is cantankerous. His mood changes abruptly, leaving you bewildered and confused. He will be thunderous as Thor, and you expect to be struck by the next bolt of lightning if you do not move fast enough. He does not show love, nor cruelty – for I do not believe that he could be cruel. Not truly. However, when he changes, it is almost like a different man." I replied, then paused.

"Except, he is very much the same. He has his secrets, though who hasn't. When he is calm, he is a saint. When he is wrathful, he is as frightening as Hades." I told them, unaware at the time, that I was speaking most endearingly.

"From what I hear, he is not very good to his servants" Henrietta said, I was quick to reprimand her. "He is a most gracious master. He went to London for my sake, on my birthday. Quite above the call of duty. Much more than most masters." I declared proudly. Georgianna laughed, "He has obviously earned your trust. For you seem to defend him staunchly" she observed. I flushed, turning to my breakfast.

After thinking a few moments, I replied with "He is a man that – once known – anyone would trust. You would trust him with your life, for you know that he would protect it with his own." Miss Gold smiled at me, "You think highly of him, despite the fact that he was originally quite cold to you?" she asked.

"First impressions are never enough" I replied

* * *

The conversation turned to when Richard and William would be coming. I was informed that they would be leaving Cambridge, and Oxford, in a few days, and would go to Nottingham to fetch Anne. After which, they would come back to Branhurst. I stiffened, remembering the last time that any plans were made to go to Nottingham. My thoughts immediately went to Roger.

But I banished them all, William and Richard would do fine. I did not have to worry, for they would return home. And I would see Anne for the first time in a couple of years. She was a lady now, and had been sent to the continent for her education. I considered that she would be quite altered.

For now, I paid my attention to my cousins, speaking of Bath – where Henrietta had met her fiancée.

I did, however, happen to look toward my Aunt.

Aunt Fanny seemed to be thinking herself, "Molly dear, will we ever meet him? Mr. Rochester I mean. Judge for ourselves the kind of man he is?" she asked. I swallowed my food, "I do not know Aunt. Only time and fortune will tell. I intend to bring Adele here one day, perhaps next year, or the year after. It depends on what Mr. Rochester says. Perhaps one day I may convince him to come for himself. Thornfield is so lonely in the winter months. The shadows on the wall remind you that you are alone, all the while giving the impression that you never are alone" I replied.

Georgianna then inquired as to what kind of child Adele was, and how my teaching was going. Enthusiasm in my very being, I expressed what she was like, and recounted my many tales while I was in Thornfield. Hetta and Georgia listened with eagerness, happy to listen and not interrupt.

Once or twice I looked toward Aunt Fanny and Miss Gold, for they were speaking in such a way that was quite suspicious. However, my attention could not stay concentrated on them long enough to hear, for Georgianna was quite anxious to hear the finishing of my tale of when I taught Adele how to play 'The Dreame' - a particular favorite of Georgianna's. Adele would not stay still, and was most critical of herself, insisting that she would never learn it the way that I had.

I complied, quite happy to fulfill any questions my cousins asked. I knew that I would recount once again when the boys returned. But for now, I was happy to laugh and smile more than I had in the last six months.


	11. Chapter 11

Two days passed, Branhurst Hall buzzed with the excitement of the upcoming events. I was informed that we were invited for two dinner parties; one with the Quincy's on Friday, after all, Squire Quincy expected us to see Giles and Henry as soon as they arrived. The other dinner party was with the Hamiltons on Thursday. The Hamiltons were a nice set of people, consisting of Mr. Hamilton, and his mother-in-law, Mrs. Travers. For she had moved in with him when his wife still lived, but now they were as mother and son.

We were also expected to host our own party, and that I was only told that it would occur on Wednesday. But as to all else, I was ignorant. It did not matter as much to me, for I was happy simply to hear that the ball was scheduled for Friday, next.

However, this day, I was concerned with only one thing – Richard and William were expected to arrive at any moment. I had volunteered as lookout, and was now perched upon the window-seat, with a copy of 'Monte Cristo' (in French) open in my hands. My eyes were kept busy, darting constantly from my book to the bleak outside, anticipation flowing through me.

I read the words to myself aloud: "Jusqu'à ce que le jour où Dieu daigne à révéler l'avenir de l'homme, tous les humains la sagesse est contenue dans ces deux mots, - 'attendre et espérer.'"

"_Until the day when God will deign to reveal the future to man, all human wisdom is contained in these two words,—'Wait and hope.'" _

I reflected the words, surprised that they seemed to address my situation from a few months ago. I smiled as I remembered how foolish I had been that day. 'Twas a good thing that my conscience halted my steps before I opened that door. 'Wait and hope' that was a good philosophy I thought.

As I considered the weight of these words, I heard a carriage approach. Upon looking outside, I saw Richard descend from the carriage, William following after. I watched unmoving as William turned to offer his assistance to who I knew was Anne.

The blond head of my younger sister soon appeared, as she watched her step down from the carriage. She looked up, a pretty smile on her face. She thanked him, and ascended the three short steps to the door. Her gracefulness was obvious, she had been taught without the influence of young people around her. The affect was more refined than either Eliza or I had become, at least that was the opinion the last time I met with her. But she was a child then, to meet her now would be rather interesting.

Without further ado, I exited the morning room that I had been occupying, and went to the foyer to greet my cousins and sister.

* * *

"Molly!" William exclaimed upon his notice of me. I soon found myself by his side, "Its good to see you William" I replied, embracing him in the familiar way that siblings do. Formality completely disregarded in our happy minds as we exclaimed our excitement to see each other. I embraced Richard in the same manner, for he was to me as an older brother.

My gaze then turned to Anne, who had spent the last five minutes observing my interaction with my cousins. For one tense moment, we observed each other, unsure of how to act. "Anne" I said, she smiled, and approached me quickly, embracing me. "Molly." she began, "I don't know what to say" she said, giggling. I joined her, for she expressed what I felt.

"I am agog, I am aghast" Richard began saying, "Mary Jane Allen has nothing to say."

"At last!" William exclaimed, making an addition to the merriment.

Anne and I blushed, turning our gaze to the wood floors.

Aunt Fanny saved us both from any further awkwardness, and suggested that we go into the morning room. Everyone chattered as we entered, except Anne and myself; for we knew not what subjects interested either one. We walked in, unsure of what to say, to be sure, for we had not spoken in two years. Aunt Fanny ordered tea.

As we all sat down, and I took the time to observe my estranged younger sister. Her blond hair was elegantly done up in the fashion of the times, her curls framing her pretty face. Her dress was fancier than I was used to seeing for everyday. For although the burgundy gown was exquisite, she looked like a queen in comparison to the rest of us. For I was dressed in a pale yellow, Georgianna in a blue damask, Aunt Fanny wore her typical green frock, and Henrietta was all in pink.

She had glanced over to the window-seat, and picked up the book which I was reading. "Who has been reading Dumas?" she asked, turning it over in her hands. "I have" I declared, pouring myself a cup of tea. "Vous le lisez dans le français?"* she asked, using her education which she had received in Switzerland to communicate to me.

"Oui, je trouve nécessaire de garder ma connaissance de la langue fraîche dans mon esprit. Mon élève est le français et je trouve l'objet indispensable pour enseigner son anglais" I replied.

"Et dites-moi, dans votre lecture de Monte Cristo, préférez-vous Haydee ou la Mercedes?" my sister asked.

"Haydee, elle comprend Edmund plus que la Mercedes jamais. Il avait raison de la choisir. Vous?"

Anne smiled, "I agree with you entirely. Perhaps we have more in common than we originally thought." she answered. "Perhaps" I agreed, handing her a cup of tea.

* * *

Sunday came, and after Church, Anne and I found ourselves walking home. The carriage could only hold so many, even if it could have held more, we were already decided that we would walk. For we had much to discuss, after two years, one can lose hold of who another is.

"So, you tutor a French girl. That must be difficult, for I remember when you were younger that you would write me, telling me how horrid your French was" Anne commented. I laughed, "In the beginning, I was quite bewildered, and nervous. I remembered all the French lessons that were drummed in my head, but every time Adele spoke to me, the lessons were renewed. She knew some English, so that was a comfort" was my reply.

Anne nodded, "When I first went to Camenzind School for Girls, I was nervous. I did not know any French, and I was thrown into a situation where I had to speak French to understand the lessons." she laughed in reminiscence. "Obviously someone took you under their wing. For you speak it fluently now" I commented, she nodded. "Yes, the headmistress, Madame Carmenzind." she replied.

"You must be very grateful to her" I said, she assented.

There was one thing I was curious about, and wasted no time in asking, "When you are finished with school, then what shall you do?" Anne smirked, "I suppose it all depends on whether or not I marry" she replied.

I had forgotten. While I had spent my adolescent years, concerning myself with teaching children, with no expectation of marriage; most young women concerned themselves with attracting husbands. I quickly apologized for my question, to which she shushed me, explaining that she was not offended. "You haven't told me of your position. Your pupil, Adele, you have mentioned her. What is it like being a governess?" she asked.

My explanation was nothing glamorous, I explained all the difficulties. Anne just laughed, "Surely there are the beneficial things about it" she replied. I smiled, "Yes, there are always beneficial things" I said, looking down at my dress. The differences between Anne and myself were obvious. For she knew that she was handsome, and used it to her advantage. I had been told that my beauty far surpassed many, but that my natural austerity caused for many to shrink back. In my opinion, we could not have been any more different.

We then busied ourselves with conversation of Thornfield, and she inquired of Mr. Rochester. I sighed, I had told the story many times now, and I almost wished that there would have been some way of writing it in a book. So as to avoid telling the story over and over again.

Even so, I found myself repeating my story. Anne listened intently, and much to my surprise, did not utter a word. "May I ask you a question sister?" she said when I finished. "Of course" was my reply, "Do you ever consider marriage?" she asked.

I snickered, "Marriage" I repeated, stopping and facing her, "What young woman doesn't dream of marriage? Indeed, I would love to be married, to care for children that are my own." I said, "Alas, what man would want to marry a governess?" I asked, not caring if Anne answered the question.

I do believe that she would have answered, except, at that particular moment, as we walked toward the house, a carriage arrived. I was ignorant of any one else who would be arriving, for we did not expect Eliza for another few days. Thursday to be exact. George would accompany her, at least, that is what I assumed.

"Shall we go back?" Anne asked, noting my curiosity. I shook my head, "Not yet, whomever it is, we do not need to return yet." I reasoned, continuing on my walk. Anne complied, "What shall we speak of?" she asked, "Let us speak of life at Charleston Manor" I replied. She obliged me, speaking of our Aunt and Uncle in Nottingham.

* * *

An hour later, Anne and I returned to the house. I had reasoned that whomever had arrived, would be settled in by now. Or left, if it was nothing more than a social call. When we entered the door, I distinctly heard George's boisterous fourteen year old voice. Anne and I exchanged a look, for the voice was unrecognizable to her, but I did not understand how he came by himself.

". . .And so, there I was, pushing the carriage, but it wasn't moving. I look up, and there he is, arms crossed saying, 'Well, I must admit, your progress is staggering. If ever you feel the need to stop acting like Hercules, I'm here'" George exclaimed, telling Georgianna and Henrietta some story. The three of them laughed, and then looked up. "Molly!" George shouted, making his way across the room in a few strides.

"George, my how you've grown. You're taller than me now" I said, George gave a wolfish grin, commenting how it wasn't that he'd grown, but that I'd shrunk. Although slightly insulted by his insinuation, I still smiled.

I had noticed that Anne was more behind us, noticeably uncomfortable. It was obvious that she had not been raised around people her age, for she was – at times – more mature than we were. "George" I began, approaching her, "How rude you are not greeting Anne. For she is your sister" I brought her into the fray. George's reaction reminded me of my own when I first saw her.

Then, as only a younger brother would, he embraced her tightly. "Welcome back Anne, I hope your journey was pleasant" he greeted, stepping back to observe her. "Thank you George, yes, it was. Very pleasant" she replied sweetly. I smiled, we were her family, and George was the perfect person to make a person feel more at home.

There was, however, one question that I had for George, "How did you get here?" he laughed, "Sinbad the Sailor brought me" he replied. I raised an eyebrow at him, I loved riddles, but not when I wished to know answers to questions. I again repeated the question, "Why don't you find out for yourself?" he asked, "Find out?" I repeated, how could I do that without him explaining?

"Yes" he exclaimed, "The man who brought me is in the library with Aunt Fanny, she was the one to ask him to fetch me" I was beginning to be frustrated, "But who is he?" I asked. George took me by the shoulders, and pushed me toward the doorway, "Go find out" he commanded, shutting the door to the morning room.

Finding myself in a predicament which I could not think my way out of, I decided to do as recommended. With a rap on the door to the library, and a consequential 'Come in' from Aunt Fanny, I went in. "Pardon me Aunt Fanny, George told me to come in here. He said that I could discover how he came here by coming to find the man responsible" I said.

Aunt Fanny smiled knowingly, "Shut the door Molly" she said, and I obeyed. All the while, my eyes had strayed to the riding boots that were crossed over each other, sitting in the high-backed chair by the fireplace. Aunt Fanny motioned for me to come over, and I approached the chair as I would Mr. Rochester's.

When I stood in front of it, my eyes widened, for there sat the handsome and grim face which by now I knew well. "Good evening Miss Allen" Mr. Rochester said.

* * *

Here's the French Translations.

*"You're reading it in French?"

*'Yes, I find it necessary to keep my knowledge of the language fresh in my mind. My pupil is French, and I find it essential to teach her English'

*"And tell me, in your reading of Monte Cristo, do you prefer Haydee or Mercedes?"

* "Haydee, she understands Edmund more than Mercedes ever would. He was right to choose her."


	12. Chapter 12

Moments passed slowly as I stood as if a statue in front of Mr. Rochester. How did he get here? Was he the mysterious person who had brought my brother home for the holidays? My questions went unanswered, as they could only be found in my head.

"My dear Miss Allen, I fear I have bewitched you. For I do not know the last time that you did not speak in my presence" Mr. Rochester commented, his face most serene as he spoke. "Forgive me sir" I began quite seriously, I had regained control of my reason.

"I did not believe that bewitchment was still possible in England. You must know some elf or fairy, although I was under the impression that they all left a hundred years ago. For England is not wild enough to sustain them. Though, if you have bewitched me, sir, then you must be Eros" I replied.

"Me? Cupid? Ha! I would not be as foolish as he, he caused a great deal of trouble for no good reason. I would no do so much for any woman as he did for Psyche" he exclaimed.

I looked over to my Aunt, it seemed as if she was unaware of what we were saying. Indeed, for if I had been watching, I would not know what was being said either. Our conversation was like that of passing secret messages, alas, I know not what those messages contained.

"I believe that any man in love would do so much," I replied "For in the end it all worked out well did it not?" I asked, he scoffed, "I would hardly call it working out in the end, Cupid and Psyche caused themselves – and everyone around them – a great deal of trouble." he replied.

"But is not the cost of love, trouble? I have never read, nor heard of any lovers that had no difficulties. Indeed, for it seems as if love must have difficulty to prove that it is true. Had not Claudio thought that Hero was unfaithful, would he – if she was ever framed – believed in her fidelity? Alas, had it not been for their trouble, I do not think that they would have any love at all." I said.

"And if you fell in love, would you expect trouble?" he asked, I chuckled.

"If I had no trouble in love, then I would not believe that it was love at all."

"A bold belief"

"A realistic one, for I believe in reality. And reality states, that every person must know trouble, especially when in love. You would not know a person's true character without it"

"We'll see when you find yourself in love, for your soul has not been woken by the notion of it. For to you, it is only a word"

"Yes, sir. We shall see" I agreed, looking once more at my Aunt. Her look reminded me.

There was a question on my mind, and I needed to know the answer, "Tell me Mr. Rochester, whatever preempted you to come to Branhurst?" I asked. He looked to my Aunt, "I am here at the graciousness of your Aunt, for she was the one who invited me for the holidays" he stated. I looked to my Aunt in disbelief, she returned my gaze.

"Of course Molly. I invited Mr. Rochester after your letter in November. You had expressed your desire to invite him yourself, remember?" she told me. I nodded, "Why yes Aunt. I suppose that I was simply surprised." I said, walking over to the refreshments. Sherry, scotch and the like.

"I must thank you sir" I said.

"For what?" he asked.

"You brought my brother did you not?"

Mr. Rochester smiled, "Yes, your Aunt mentioned that he was in Shropshire, at Ludlow College. She asked me, when I came here, if I would go there and fetch your brother" he said.

"Is not Shropshire a little out of the way sir?"

"When asked, no place it out of the way. I just, change the direction of my horse" he replied.

"I was unaware sir, that you drove the carriage yourself. Though I overheard a conversation between my brother and my cousins. Apparently there was some kind of an incident with a carriage, and now that I know you brought him, I'm assuming that you know what it was about?" I asked, pouring him some scotch. I poured a glass of sherry for my aunt.

Mr. Rochester laughed heartily, "Yes, your brother considers himself to be some kind of Hercules. We were caught in the mud, and he insisted that he was as strong as an ox. Therefore, so as not to wound his pride, I allowed him to push the carriage."

"Alone?" I asked. "And yet, you say that does not wound pride?"

"Alone, and it does not" he confirmed, taking the glass from me.

"And I take it, he did not succeed?"

"No, he had to admit that he is not a Titan, and we – the servant, your brother, and I – pushed the carriage out of the mire" Mr. Rochester said, chuckling to himself, "Your nephew, Mrs. Polk, seems to take after your niece. He believes that there is hope for the most hopeless of scenarios" he told my aunt.

She smiled, "Yes, they take after their mother. My sister was always looking for what to be glad about, in any situation. Mary, on more than one occurrence, would try and comfort us all, despite the fact that it was rather hopeless" she said.

"I never knew that you were so encouraging Miss Allen" Mr. Rochester told me, as if a revelation had dawned upon him.

"Oh, no" Aunt Fanny intervened, "Mary is my sister. Molly was named after her, but everyone calls her Molly. That is, those who knew her when she was a child, she insists on being called Mary now" she announced.

Mr. Rochester nodded in understanding, "And do you prefer Mary or Molly, Miss Allen?'

"Mary" I replied "Molly is very childish, but Mary is mature."

"You never complain when I call you Molly" Aunt Fanny argued. I set my hand over hers, despite the fact that she was older than I, I found her as adorable as a child at times.

"You are my aunt, you knew me when I was still Molly. For you, it is a term of endearment. As is the case with all of my cousins"

Aunt Fanny smiled sweetly, "I'm so glad, for whenever I say 'Mary' your mother, my sister, is who I picture. Molly suits you so well." she said, placing a hand on my cheek. "Yes Miss Allen" Mr. Rochester added, "Molly does suit you well"

I grinned, and pulled away. "Indeed" I said. The clock struck 7 o'clock, and the sound of a commotion could be heard in the foyer. A heard a thump, and boisterous laughing.

The raucousness had caught Mr. Rochester's attention, and Aunt Fanny looked at the door. I soon realized that my brother and cousins had – most likely – caused some trouble. Seeing as Miss Gold was not here, I would have to take the situation in hand. I knew that my brother – if he had caused the commotion – would wish that he would have seen Hades, than me in a fury.

Sighing, I stood, "Excuse me Aunt, Mr. Rochester, I'm going to make sure that my brother has not caused trouble." I said, curtsying to the gentleman. "Molly, send the children to dress, for Miss Gold was invited to dinner by the Fosters, I need you to calm them down. Dinner is soon and they must be dressed." my Aunt told me. "As you wish, Aunt" I replied, leaving the room.

The state of the morning room was quite out of order when I entered. Apparently, George's friends – Thaddeus Dunkley, and Marcus Litchfield – had come as soon as they heard that he had come. They had, in an effort to impress Georgianna and Anne, had somehow managed to overturn the butterscotch colored chaise which was a favorite of Aunt Fanny's. They were in a heap on the floor, trying earnestly to clean up the mess from the table, which had also managed to be turned upside-down, the china all over the Indian rug.

When I entered, however, the three young men were terrified, and scrambled to appease my anger by restoring the room to how they had entered it. I informed Thaddeus and Marcus that they would be assisting George in the cleaning of the stables because of their behavior; and was soon on the other side of their pleas for forgiveness, for they all had been subject to my judgment in the past.

After they had put things to right, Thaddeus and Marcus left, sullen looks on their faces because of my promise: that I would tell Mr. & Mrs. Dunkley, and Mrs. Litchfield of their heir's behavior, and strange and unusual punishment was their dues. I did not mean it, for their own chastisement to themselves was enough for me.

* * *

That evening, the dinner table was alive with the warmth well known of Branhurst Hall. Mr. Rochester proved to be quite the amusing guest, and was all to eager to please the questions of my cousins. For Georgianna and Henrietta quizzed him on every diverse thing about his travels on the continent.

He was more than congenial, and answered their questions with delight. He told them of France, and Italy. He described everything with detail, leaving my cousins in raptures. At the end of the evening, I was convinced that my cousins already fancied him. A sorry state for them, for they were never very subtle when the fancied men.

William and Richard asked him about his politics, and debated with him on his opinion about the changing times and industrialism. Mr. Rochester opposed them, agreed, and challenged their ideas about various topics; causing for Georgianna and Henrietta to listen – for possibly the first time – about the government, and the changing northern part of England.

Anne and he spoke of France (in French I might add) and wondered at the remaking of it after the revolution. They discussed the uprising in the 1820s, and she listened to his opinion on the matter. No doubt, it was quite flattering perhaps to any other man than Mr. Edward Fairfax Rochester. For to many, and I have heard it myself, she was a beauty in both looks and character.

I wondered for a moment, at whether they would make a good couple. For I had always had the predisposition to matchmaking. I decided that they would not do well, for she was fragile, and he was brash. It would be like bringing a swallow and an eagle to be under the same roof. For the swallow is tender, and the eagle is powerful. Perhaps it was these conclusions, or perhaps it was jealousy that she was able to keep in conversation with him more than I had done, that I decided that they would be a terrible match. Although, it seemed that she was a rather desirable creature.

George then took his turn to converse with Mr. Rochester. Together, they discussed the law, for Mr. Rochester was quite informed about it, and George had – at one time – considered the law as a profession. "But if you become a lawyer" Mr. Rochester began to ask my brother, "Who will take care of your property, Livingston is it?" George scoffed, "Molly of course, or Eliza's husband. I have no desire to take care of Livingston, I haven't seen it since I was a small child" he replied.

"You would leave that to your sister to take care of? It is not a woman's obligation" Mr. Rochester said.

"Molly can handle herself, she loves Livingston. It is as if it was made for her to care for, and I hope that she marries a man who will love Livingston as well. For it will always be her true home" George replied, though his tone mingling with endearment, and something that was somewhat irresponsible. I decided that I would speak to him about it later, but my plans were thwarted when Mr. Rochester turned to me.

"And what would you say to that Miss Allen? As the person in question, would you rather take care of your family home than your brother?" he asked.

I, who had been silent up to this point, was already quite passionate about the subject. I decided to not only speak to Mr. Rochester, but also to George.

"I consider it, sir, as quite unfortunate. My brother is – though he does not know it yet – the most apt to care for Livingston. To leave it to me to care for, although he tells the truth I do love it, is quite out of place. I speak from an unbiased point of view, for although I believe that women should have the inheritance – I believe that only when there is no male to care for whatever living there is. The inheritance should not leave the female line, but the men should not shirk the responsibility by saying that the woman can care for it" I said, quite aware that I had probably said too much.

Mr. Rochester smiled, "Well said, well thought out. My thought exactly Miss Allen" I smiled in reply. "Thank you sir, though I don't think you were that surprised at my answer. You are quite accustomed by this time to my rather detailed replies." I said, he shook his head, and with a chuckle lifted his glass to his lips.

"You? You're so meek, its unthinkable" he said, earning loud laughter from the table. We stared at each other for only a moment; we then each returning to our conversations – neither speaking to each other for the rest of the night.


	13. Chapter 13

The next morning, after discovering that the entire household was still fast asleep, I found myself walking to the stables. I was anxious to find how Gaius fared, and hoped that I would be able to ride. It all depended upon the weather, and that was always a factor that was indeterminable. The creaking of the great stable door was enough to wake the dead, but thank God, the stables were a distance from the house. Three stalls from the door was Gaius' stall, magnificent Arabian that he was.

Gaius nudged my shoulder in greeting, "Hello boy" I said, petting his nose. I looked outside, the clouds were not very threatening. "What do you say we go for a ride a little later, eh? I'm sure that you would love that" I asked Gaius, he snorted and tossed his head. "I suppose that's a yes" I replied with a laugh.

"You never told me that you rode" a voice said from behind me.

"You never asked, not that I would expect you to. Horses never came into any of our conversations" I told him, still petting Gaius. Mr. Rochester walked up from behind me, looking at Gaius with a scrutinizing gaze. "He's a fine looking horse, a Arabian?" I nodded, "My uncle bought him for me, when he was still a pony. I was ten"

"Did you ride him often before you came to Thornfield?" Mr. Rochester asked, I nodded, "As often as I could. I have always loved horses"

Mr. Rochester looked at me strangely, "You should have told me, I would have given you a choice of my mares to ride." he said.

"As a governess, sir, I would not think it my place to require a horse. I can just as easily walk" replied I.

He chuckled, "For a woman who was raised in the lap of luxury, you have a great many ideas of place and status. You were not raised to be any less than I, for you are a gentleman's daughter." he said. "You speak the truth, sir, and as a gentleman's daughter, I speak to you at that level. Even so, it would not be proper to insist upon a horse, seeing as my status is one of your employ. I never would presume to be higher than I am."

Mr. Rochester shook his head, "I still disagree. But it is your belief, and I have found that you will not stray from it unless firmly proven that it is wrong" he said, peering outside, "Are you going to ride today?" he asked. I followed his gaze, "Perhaps" I said soflty, "If the weather continues like this. It is rather cold though, I'm not sure"

We did not speak for a while after. I because I had nothing to say – and it seemed as if Mr. Rochester was deep in thought. There was however one thing that I wished to speak of.

"You seemed to have enjoyed the evening. I can't say that I've heard you talk so much" I told him, he looked at me and laughed. "Talk so much? Ha! That's a funny thought, I was under the impression that I spoke too much for starters. Though, I can't say that you spoke a word all night" he said.

"I had nothing to say. Besides, as guest in the home you are by default more interesting" I replied.

"The world considers me interesting. I can't say there's anything interesting about me, I'm just an Englishman."

"An Englishman who has traveled the globe. Not many Englishmen can boast that"

"And it matters, why?" he asked.

I paused, I was never interested in traveling, therefore I did not understand the minds of most of my peers. "I don't know, sir. Personally I find it rather trivial." I said nonchalant.

"Trivial?" Mr. Rochester repeated. "What's so trivial about traveling?"

"Forgive me sir, allow me to explain. Traveling is, no doubt, interesting. But I personally have never been interested in leaving England. Honestly, I do not understand the fascination with going anywhere else. It is a fact universally acknowledged that everywhere you go, there are people. You can go to London and find a diverse amount of foreigners." I said.

"And of course without the expense of travel. The worry of what kind of people you will meet that might just take it into their heads that the world would be a better place without you" I added.

"You have definite opinions on a topic which, I might add, you know nothing of" Mr. Rochester replied.

"Indeed, sir. For though I have never left England, I do have defined opinions on what I have heard. I do not like what I have heard, and therefore I am decided, that I will not – unless thoroughly persuaded – leave my little island" I said. He laughed, and then after a moment asked:

"Do you find me interesting?"

"I don't know what you mean sir" I said, avoiding his gaze.

"Don't meddle with me, Molly. I asked you outright, give me an outright answer" he replied gruffly.

I smiled at his use of my nickname. I suppose I never would grow out of it now. However, he was awaiting my reply. "Well, sir, if you really wish to know I will tell you. But I'm not sure that what you will hear, you will like" I replied coyly.

He nodded, "Tell me" was his command.

"In many ways sir, I find you interesting. In others, I do not" I replied. He scoffed, stalking away for a moment, before returning.

"You give me an answer like this?" he asked incredulous.

"You asked if I find you interesting, sir. You did not ask _how _I find you interesting" I replied smartly. Mr. Rochester's gaze was rather piercing, but I did not shirk. If he wanted specifics, he should ask, not expect me to tell him on a whim.

"But you knew what I meant!" he exclaimed.

"You did not specify, sir. I cannot read your mind, and therefore, I do not necessarily know what you want in particular" I explained. He threw his hands in the air.

"Very well, Molly. What about me do you find interesting, and what do you not?" he asked, leaning against the stall door.

I paused, watching as his exasperation increased at my wait. "Well, sir. I would say that your conversations when you speak to me, although it takes a moment for me to understand what you are saying, are quite interesting. You speak of matters which cause me to think, question, and keep myself in readiness for questions that you cast in my path. Although, I must admit, you often leave me with more questions than when our conversation began" I said.

"Well for those who are not free-thinking human beings, you cannot expect to have intelligent conversations? However, you are a intelligent creature. Therefore I expect conversations with questions, and intelligent answers." he told me, I raised an eyebrow as if to say 'I'm not finished' "I know that look, continue" he muttered with a wave.

"What I do not find interesting is when you speak nonsense. Things which have no meaning, there is no substance. I know that you are a man who loves truths, and therefore I find it rather confusing that in other company you speak of things that – unfortunately – are rather dull. Your travels may be interesting to certain people, but personally, I find no interest in them." I said, taking a breath.

"Do you think me rather worldly, Molly?" he asked at length.

I looked at him, "Worldly, sir? Why would you ask that? For although I have spoken rather harshly, it is only because you do not seem to think yourself as having anything to say. You spoke of pleasure, and vanity of life when you were at the table last night. But I have not seen you as taking pleasure at other's expense, or being vain. Therefore the question must be asked, why would you think that I think of you as worldly?"

"Because you have nothing complimentary to say about my choices, or how I behave amongst others." he told me, voice lowered.

I had not noticed my choice of words, but he was right. Everything that I said did seem to point to his question. "Ah, it is true! You have nothing to contradict my statement" he said, breaking through my thoughts.

"It would seem not, sir. But my opinions are only held by myself, they mean nothing" I said "They mean something. You simply do not speak your mind when you should, and when you do speak your mind, you go on for five minutes without a breath. If you spoke your mind when you thought what you did, then your monologues would be cut short. For you speak very verbosely" he declared.

"I simply have nothing to say at the time."

"Yes you do. Your problem is that you are afraid of speaking unless you will amaze the whole room" he stated. "In many ways we are alike"

"Perhaps. Perhaps not" I said, walking toward the stable doors.

"Are you running away from me?" he asked. "Have I damaged your pride? If I have, tell me now"

"No, sir, I am simply going back to the house." I said with a laugh, "I have decided to ride today, seeing as I am restless and need the exercise. As does Gaius, I would imagine" I said, opening the door and stepping out into the December air. It was rather cold.

Mr. Rochester followed me, and together we began to walk up the hill to Branhurst. "I'll ask you a question, if I may" Mr. Rochester said, "Yes sir?" I replied, "Why did you say so little to me last night?" he asked, I turned to him, stopping him where he stood.

"I was unaware sir, that I said anything less than ordinary. As I said, I simply had nothing to say last night. And you seemed preoccupied with my cousins. Besides sir, you have spoken to me every day for the last six months. I would imagine that you would want a change of pace, and for once I was happy not to be the center of attention" I said, pulling my shawl tighter to my body.

He was about to reply when Anne approached us, "Good morning" she called out. "Good morning Anne, how did you sleep?" I asked, continuing up the hill to meet her. "Very well, thank you. Though I am surprised to see you awake, you seemed to be rather tired last night" she teased. I blushed, "Yes, I'm so sorry. I do believe I fell asleep during your reading" I replied, looking behind us to see Mr. Rochester trailing behind. Anne noticed it too.

"Edward, why do you separate yourself from us? Come closer" she commanded, I looked at her with surprise, she had used his first name. Quite improper for such an acquaintance, but I said nothing.

Mr. Rochester came closer, and began to walk with us. "I did not observe that you wished for me to join you" Mr. Rochester said, Anne laughed, "And why would you say that?" she asked. I sighed, she did not know him, and she was acting foolishly.

"You are two women – sisters. Who, no doubt, have some lady matters to discuss. Being which, I would not be of any help, for I am a man" he said, Anne gently touched his arm, causing for him to offer it to her. She took it with glee, looking triumphant. I could do nothing but roll my eyes toward the heavens, and look away. I began to trail behind them, had my sister no shame?

"But as a man, you have your own point of view" she said in a flirtatious manner. I had not seen this side of my sister, but I was convinced that I didn't like it. She must in learned it in Switzerland, for it seemed rather French. Adele had acted like this when she wanted to get her way.

"Yes, ma'am, however, certain things I cannot speak of. Despite my opinions" Mr. Rochester replied. Certain things indeed. I wondered vaguely at what he alluded to.

"What do you think Molly?" she said, turning to me, holding onto him as a betrothed woman would hold on to her betrothed. Mr. Rochester did not seem to mind, and that I did not understand. However, I answered her question with a simple, "I refuse to choose sides, for on either side I will lose."

Anne laughed, "Whatever do you mean? Edward, what do you think that she means" she asked Mr. Rochester. He looked at me for a moment, before telling her to ask me, for he would not know why I said what I said. And 'even if he did, he would still insist that she ask me'

"Very well, as Edward has suggested. What did you mean Molly?" she asked.

I looked away at first, then turned back to look at her. "Allow me to say this in as few words as possible, even though I'm sure that I won't succeed in doing so, as I am rather verbose." (Mr. Rochester chuckled quietly at my use of his word) "If I agree with Mr. Rochester: you, Anne, will never forgive me for not choosing to agree with you. If I choose you, then I will never forgive myself, for your explanation is far too simple. Mr. Rochester is both a man of many opinions, and therefore it would be the proper thing to ask him questions. However, he is right, for there are certain things that a man cannot answer, the only reason being that they are men. Heretofore, I will not choose either argument." I explained, entering the house.

As I left, I heard Anne say, "Quite the explanation to say that she agreed with you"

Mr. Rochester replied, "She's like that"


	14. Chapter 14

Tuesday passed rather mundanely, I spent the majority of my time with Georgianna and William. Anne seemed to have gotten Mr. Rochester to spend more time with her, which the entire family had noticed. Of course, she could not have done it without the encouragement of Mrs. Greene. Yes, the old woman had come to us Monday evening, and had immediately taken a liking to Anne.

"My dear Anne," I overheard her say to my sister Wednesday morning. I sat nearby, a book in my hands, but my eyes saw only words, my ears heard things which afterwards, I wished they had not. "Surely you are aware of the fact that you are a beauty. More beautiful than your sister as a matter of fact." I always knew that she did not like me, but her words still stung.

"Mary is beautiful in her own right, is she not" I heard Anne say.

"Ah yes, she once had the opportunity of being a real beauty, but she chose otherwise. Now she has a pleasant face, I will admit, but nothing like yours. I think it is her chose profession, it makes her look plainer than she is. A real pity, for it was Charles Nelson that did it I think. You however, you will not be mistreated, for you were born to a consort to kings" Mrs. Greene replied, placing her hand on Anne's arm.

"I thank you Mrs. Greene, you are very kind" Anne said. "May I ask a question?" she asked, Mrs. Greene was all too willing to answer anything my sister had to ask. "Who is Charles Nelson? I have heard his name mentioned in passing." I sighed, and knew that all too soon I would be subjected to hearing my own tale brought before me. Through skewed vision of course.

"Charles Nelson. Well, he is the son of Mrs. Nelson. Mary learned somewhat under her, and then became a teacher. Before she left to go to Derbyshire. She formed quite the attachment to Mr. Nelson. But Mr. Nelson was studying to be a lawyer, under his uncle in London. Apparently, the uncle disapproved of the match, and told him that he would be cut off from his inheritance if he married Mary." Mrs. Greene said, I awaited for the next question from Anne's mouth. "What happened?"

"Mary went to Town to meet the uncle, to gain his approval. However, something occurred, I can never remember what, that caused for the uncle to change his mind. She came back, heartbroken, and Mr. Nelson stayed on in London. He became engaged not long afterward." Mrs. Greene explained.

"Was it after this that she went to Thornfield?" Anne asked her, Mrs. Greene assented, and added to her already scandalous tale. "Personally, I believed it was for the best. After all, poor Mary's reputation was in tatters, for there was a rumor that she almost eloped with Mr. Nelson. Perhaps it was for the best that she became a governess, and left to go to Derbyshire. No one knows of her misfortunes there. Nor do they know that she was such a willing girl."

I stood abruptly, I could listen no longer. "Excuse me" I muttered to the rest of the party "I needed some fresh air" I said, going into the garden. William followed me, insisting that he found the room to be rather warm.

* * *

"You are bothered. She should not have told that story" William uttered as we went to the garden.

"In her defense William, it is my sister she is telling" I replied.

"Your sister, and Mr. Rochester, for he was nearby"

"What Mr. Rochester does or does not know is none of my concern. They were bound to find out anyway. The Hamiltons will, no doubt, tease me for it. And Mr. Willard's aunt Lady Arnold will most likely discuss it. It is better to have come from family" I said.

"But she should not have told Anne" He insisted.

"Why not?" I asked him. He paused, looking around to see that no one was within earshot.

"There is something about Anne which is very unsavory. And by the way, what Mrs. Greene said about your beauty is wrong, there is a quality about you which is pleasing. That quality makes you quite enjoyable" he told me. However, there was one thing which caught my attention.

"What do you mean?" I asked, "In what way is Anne unsavory?" William paused, evaluating his thoughts it seemed.

"When I first met your sister, she seemed to be delightful. Everything a man wants in a woman. Beauty, cunning, education, good manners. She listened to Richard and I jabber about politics with patience. Something which seemed refreshing, for neither of my sisters enjoy conversations about it. And you haven't been in our company for a while; therefore she seemed to be just as enjoyable as you" William explained.

"But? " I asked.

"Surely – **surely**, you've noticed?" he said, "During these last few days, she has been rather centered on one object. Mr. Rochester's 20,000 pounds."

"Yes, I've noticed. She has been to forward, something I did not suspect in her nature until a few days ago. She seemed so demure, quiet, meek. Now, she is bold. She has no shame, I blush for her for she seems unable to do it herself. It's as if she is determined to make us ridiculous. I shudder to think of her behavior at the ball" I replied, sitting on the bench under the apple tree.

"I know what you mean" William said, sitting down. "She is focused on him, and him alone."

William and I stayed quiet for a moment, both retreating into our own thoughts.

"What manner of man is he? Is he the kind of person to fall for her, rather obvious, schemes?" William asked me. I did not know how to answer, I had never seem Mr. Rochester with anyone but myself or Mrs. Fairfax. "I don't know. I don't believe so, but I truly don't know" I said.

"Then we shall have to wait. I sincerely hope that he is not foolish enough to do it. If he is however, I must warn you cousin, I will not permit you to continue working for him. No matter your praises of his character" William warned me. "I understand" I replied.

* * *

When I dressed that evening, I thought on what Mr. Rochester's behavior had been toward my sister. He, on the one side, was quite distant; he seemed to take no notice of her attentions. Sometimes, however, it seemed as if he encouraged her behavior.

I sincerely hoped that was not the case. I did not know what manner of man I was now in company with he seemed so altered. Yet, he was unaltered when he was in my presence. I was confused. But I was determined. If he acted upon Anne's schemes, I would not wait for William to prevent me from working for him. I would quit Thornfield myself.

"Miss?" Katharine's voice scattered all thoughts to the corners of my mind. "Yes Katharine?" she gently tugged on my hair, pinning it into place. "Nothing much Miss Molly. Ye just seem rather interested in yer own thoughts." she said.

"Yes, I was rather preoccupied Katharine. I just have quite a bit on my mind." I replied, "Katharine?" I said, "Yes Ma'am?"

"What is your opinion of my sister?" I asked. "I'm sorry dearie, what did ye say? I'm going deaf"

"I said what is your opinion of Anne?" I repeated louder.

"She is a kind young woman it seems. Soft hearted, intelligent, very handsome" she replied.

"Handsome. Yes, all too handsome in my opinion." I looked in the mirror, "It is of course my choices which made me less handsome than she" I muttered softly.

"Ye are just as handsome as she is Miss. In fact, ye are more handsome than her, for it isn't yer face, but who ye are." Katharine contradicted. I raised my gaze to hers in the mirror.

"I thought you said you were going deaf." I pointed out, she shrugged, "It comes an' goes Miss"

"According to what is said, no doubt" was my rebuttal.

"It comes an' goes, Miss Molly" she repeated, leaving my side to fetch my dress. I laughed, and stood, following her.

* * *

There I stood, my crimson colored dress quite contrasted with my pale skin and dark eyes. I remembered the last time I wore this, to great effect, as I recalled.

"Ah Miss, you look beautiful. Quite like the old Miss Molly before she went to that great house to be a governess." Katharine commented, walking to my vanity, taking my locket and clasping it behind my neck. "Thank you Katharine" I said.

The door soon resounded with a knock, "Sounds like someone's here Miss. Probably Master William, or Master George" she said, opening it. "Sir" I heard her say and saw her curtsy, I turned, expecting Richard, as he was the only one she ever referred to as 'sir'.

"Mr. Rochester" I exclaimed in shock. His eyes examined me, "I have spoke with your cousins, they have given their permission to allow me to escort you to dinner." he said. I nodded, joining him in the hall. "Thank you sir" I said, taking his offered arm.

"You are surprised, Mary, why?" Mr. Rochester asked. His using my first name was still rather strange, but I was beginning to warm to the idea.

"I simply expected for you to escort Anne. You have been so much in her company" I replied.

Mr. Rochester scoffed, "Your sister is quite insistent. I have missed our debates. You and I. Your wit and your sisters are not the same. I find your never ending explanations quite intriguing." he said.

"No doubt though, sir, Anne is just as interesting – if not more. For both of you have traveled, and can speak together of diverse places" I said. Mr. Rochester laughed, "Of course, because you never wish to travel anywhere outside of England"

"I never said that" I contradicted.

"You said you have no interest in it" he stated, "I don't trust you" he finished after a pause. I snickered at his words, and the conversation ended just as Anne and Richard exited the opposite hallway.

"Cousin, you look lovely. Ah, the scarlet dress with the black brocade. I should have known, you have always had a fondness for the dramatic." Richard teased, the entire family had nicknamed the dress 'Empress Theodora'. However, when I wore it, calamity usually happened – in the form of men. "I will not wear it at the ball, for your sister has insisted that I buy a new dress. That is why I wear it tonight" I replied.

Richard laughed, and led Anne, who wore a light blue patterned dress, down the stairs. Mr. Rochester and I followed. There was once that I tripped on the stairs, for I had never outgrown my awkwardness, but Mr. Rochester's strength held me upright. I muttered a 'thank you' in response and he laughed, commenting on how clumsy I was. "You see Miss Allen, you need me" he said, to which I shook my head, and we finished descending the stairs.

* * *

When we reached the drawing room, I saw that our guests had already arrived. Mr. Bolton, the clergyman on the Branhurst estate, and his wife Mrs. Ruth Bolton. Mr. Bolton was a man in his fifties, his wife only seven-and-thirty. They had no children, and therefore, Mrs. Bolton found it her goal in life to (as the clergyman's wife) find husbands for the girls of the neighborhood. The role of matchmaker fell to her at every ball. They were currently occupied in speaking with my aunts.

Mr. and Mrs. Danton, who owned a property just outside of Northampton, came with their two daughters, Louise and Helen; and their son, Peter Danton. Mr. and Mrs. Danton were an old couple of the county, warmhearted, and friendly. They had always wished that I would marry Peter, as they considered me a perfect match. Alas, Peter and I had decided long ago, we would not consider marriage, unless we were so old that we were sure of never finding love for ourselves. Louise and Helen, being one and three years my junior, considered me as an older sister. Asked for my advice, and hoped that they would be the godmothers of my children. They tinkered on the pianoforte, and Peter spoke to William, who had already joined the party.

Another, I observed, joined us. Mr. Hart – Dr. Hart I should say, and never was a man more aptly named. Being only nine-and-twenty, single, and a profitable profession, he was the most sought after man in the neighborhood. His red hair, blue eyes, and handsome features made almost every malady in a girl under the age of thirty, made up. He had not been here eight years, but many of the women of the town were quite determined to marry him. He, however, had eyes for only one girl. And she had only eyes for him. The girl of whom I speak?

Georgianna.

Indeed, for they, as I noticed, were already in deep conversation. Off in a corner, away from the rest of us mere mortals. For they were enamored with each other, saw no one else, and heard no one else.

The Squire was here also, but he was more interested in speaking to Miss Gold. A surprising match indeed, one I did not expect. They too seemed to be so interested in each other's company, so much so that they noticed nothing around them. A puzzling situation. However, I surmised, I had been gone for six months. I would have to quiz Miss Gold on it, I determined.

All this, I observed within the few moments that Mr. Rochester and myself had yet to be detected.


	15. Chapter 15

This tranquil situation that I have described, was soon disturbed by the entrance of Richard and Anne. Anne, upon entering, immediately went to Mrs. Greene's side,. It was not long before entire room was buzzing, all eager to be introduced to her.

Louise and Helen were quite interested to meet my true sister. Mr. and Mrs. Danton soon joined them, anxious to meet this girl whom they had heard about. Mr. Bolton complained that there were far too many young people in the party. But his cries were overwhelmed by the introductions.

Mr. Rochester and I quietly entered the room, completely avoiding the hubbub which was centered around Aunt Fanny's chaise. "Georgia" I called quietly, causing for her to gently halt the conversation with Dr. Hart. "Molly, whatever is going on there? It is almost as if they had just seen Queen Victoria's jewels displayed." she commented, sliding over on the window seat, giving me room.

I chuckled, "No, just Anne. I never knew that the entire town was wild to see her" I said.

"Neither did I. They used to give you that enthusiasm." Georgianna said.

"I don't mind, for once perhaps I won't be required to play for the entirety of the evening." I replied, looking at Mr. Rochester, who stood like a statue. Indeed, his face did look as if it was carved of marble, it showed no emotion. "Mr. Rochester" I said, gaining my master's attention. He looked down at me, for his already towering figure, towered only more when I sat.

"Allow me to introduce you to Dr. Fredrick Hart; Dr. Hart, this is Mr. Edward Rochester of Thornfield" I said, watching as Dr. Hart and Mr. Rochester shook each other's hands cordially.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Rochester. I take it that you are Mary's employer?" Dr. Hart said.

"I'll leave you to judge whether its a pleasure or not, you shouldn't predetermine based upon hearsay." Mr. Rochester replied sternly. "But your perception is correct, I am Miss Allen's employer." he finished.

Poor Dr. Hart, he did not know that Mr. Rochester was in jest. I sighed, hoping that he would not be foolish enough to not understand, and continue in his misunderstanding. I was about to say something when I heard:

"I agree sir, although true character is shown when no one is looking. Perhaps I should keep my eye on you, so as to make sure that you are who you say you are" Dr. Hart replied.

Mr. Rochester smiled, "And I shall keep my eye on you."

"Do so sir, and we shall judge for ourselves who the other is" Dr. Hart said, retaking his seat next to Georgianna.

Georgianna and I exchanged a look, what manner of men were we now in company with? Indeed, what manner of conversation would be exchanged. Was it out of respect? The minds of men are completely unknown to any woman, and her mind is just as confusing to him. For men have a code, of sorts, with which they live by. It is the same as a man who makes it clear to any man that a certain woman is his. He has won her, and God help any man who tries to do the same. It seemed at this moment, that Mr. Rochester, and Dr. Hart were - in one way or another - in one anothers respect. However, Georgianna and I were still confused at their intercourse.

"Does he often speak like this?" Georgianna whispered in my ear. I chuckled, "Only at every moment of the day" I replied. Waiting for whatever would happen next.

* * *

"Molly!" I heard called out, finding that it was Helen Danton who had finally noticed my presence. She bound over to me, her wild curls bouncing as she crossed the room. She took my hands enthusiastically, making me stand.

"Molly, why did you not make yourself known? We have been absolutely wild to see you, and here you are. You should have come to us straight away" Helen exclaimed.

"You were preoccupied my dear Helen, besides I can only understand your excitement. Anne is a new person, and is someone who is very interesting for the time being." I replied.

"Yes, once you get to know a person, they become quite uninteresting." Louise announced, approaching us. "Just like Molly is"

"Thank you Louise, its marvelous to see you as well. You must have simply been enthralled at the fact that I returned" I jested

.

Louise smiled, looking between Mr. Rochester and myself, as if to say 'And are you going to introduce us?' "Is there something you're trying to say, my dear Louise?" I teased, she raised an eyebrow in imitation of myself. I smiled, taking one step back, so as to be at the same place as Mr. Rochester.

"Ladies, allow me to introduce you to Mr. Rochester. Sir, with your permission, allow me to introduce you to the Miss Dantons, Louise and Helen." I said. Louise, Helen, and Mr. Rochester genteelly greeted once another.

"It is a pleasure to meet you sir," Louise began, "Molly has written of Thornfield. Apparently, it is a very happy place, for she calls it 'home'. A very odd thing for her to say, she never calls somewhere home that is not"

"So I hear" Mr. Rochester replied, "Although if she said it was happy, she has perjured herself most severely." He said, looking to me.

"Happy there. I said that I was happy there." I supplied.

"Oh, you were happy there. Then I am satisfied. I should hate for Thornfield to be described as a happy place. For it is filled with misery" Mr. Rochester told the girls, his voice lowering as if he was sharing a secret.

Helen giggled, and Louise chuckled, changing the topic to my dress. Of which, we set a date for when us ladies of Branhurst and Holstrom (for that was the home of the Dantons) would go to Northampton. They were eager to shop for a dress for the ball. It was decided that Saturday would suit their purposes, and our schedule.

"Ah, here comes Peter. I see he has decided that he will take notice of you after all" Louise commented dryly, "Louise, your teasing will not persuade me" I said. Helen giggled once more, "Must you be so stubborn Molly? Just because we wish that you had married Peter" she said.

"Helen! Hush!" Louise and I chorused.

"Good evening Miss Allen" Peter greeted, bowing. I curtsied, minding my awkwardness. "Good evening, Mr. Danton. How are you this evening?" I asked.

He looked toward Anne and the others, "Very well. I have met your sister."

"Indeed, and how do you find her?" I asked.

"She is well, very sweet, surprisingly"

"Why surprisingly?" I inquired.

"She has nothing of your sharp tongue" he had never been very grateful of my tongue, and therefore found every opportunity to express his desire that I would be more genteel.

I looked at her, "Indeed not, she was raised in France" I replied.

"That would explain her dress, it is very much in fashion in Paris" he said.

My caution raised, he was not foolish enough to be drawn in by her. For his family's sake, if not for his, I began to fear for his fancy.

"In fashion, brother?" Louise said, "And what do you know of ladies' fashion?"

"I have two sisters, what else is there to know of garters, petticoats, corsets, and brocade?" he asked.

"Dinner is served" Gibson announced, causing for the 'oohs' and 'ah' to echo through the room. "Its about time" I heard Mr. Bolton state with irritation.

"Mary?" Peter said, offering his arm. " Peter, I-"

"Pardon me, Danton," Mr. Rochester interrupted, "She has already agreed to allow me to lead her to dinner. You wouldn't want to make her break her promise. Besides sir, it is only proper that you take one of your sisters" he said, looping my arm through his.

"He is right, Peter," Louise said, "You must take Helen. No one else is qualified enough" she pushed Helen to Peter's side, to which her sister latched onto the brother's arm.

The company left arm in arm in these pairs: Aunt Fanny and Richard, as is only custom for the elder son to take the mother; Mr. and Mrs. Bolton, as husband and wife; Mr. and Mrs. Danton, giving the perfect picture of happiness in marriage; William and Louise – for she had managed to have him take her; Georgianna and Dr. Hart, who would not leave each other's sides; Mr. Rochester and myself, as I have already described; Peter and Helen; the Squire and Miss Gold, and I could even then see an attachment forming. Anne, it seems, had also found an escort. I noticed that she had attached herself to William's free arm.

Thusly, we all entered the dining room.

* * *

The conversation around the table was lively enough. Louise was on my left, and Mr. Rochester on my right – with Anne on his right, Peter on her right. So on and so forth, with Aunt Fanny at the head of the table, and Richard her opposite.

Mr. Bolton, who was between Dr. Hart and his wife, tried to distract Dr. Hart from Georgianna's conversation, with discussions of the older man's pains in his chest. Dr. Hart told him that he would examine him after dinner, to which Mrs. Bolton insisted that it was simply Mr. Bolton's indigestion. In response, Mr. Bolton told his wife that it could not be indigestion, for he had yet to take a bite.

"You are quiet Plumpkin. What are you observing?" Richard asked, for I was only two places from his seat. I turned my eyes to his gaze, "I am observing human interaction, my dear Mr. Polk. If you tried you would find it quite intriguing" I replied. He chuckled, looking over to Dr. Hart and his sister, trying hard to return to their conversations, which Mr. Bolton was constantly interrupting.

"And what have you found?" Richard asked.

"I have found that Doctor Hart is beginning to lose his never-ending patience. At Mr. Bolton's insistence I fear. For the old man is blind to the fact that poor Doctor Hart is trying to woo my fair cousin" I replied.

"Poor Fredrick indeed. Whenever they are alone together, or have the chance of being alone, they monopolize each other's company. For they have oftentimes been interrupted, by those like Mr. Bolton, who always fancy themselves ill" Richard said, being then drawn into conversation by William, who sat to his opposite. Something about Antigua, or other.

"Your sister wastes no time" Louise brought to my attention, her eyes fixated on Anne and Peter.

"She was raised in France" I replied simply, turning to Mr. Rochester, I quietly spoke in his ear. "I am glad sir, that you have brought Adele here, for I was never as grateful for it until I observed my sister" Mr. Rochester turned his head, watching as Anne flirted with Peter. "She reminds me of Adele's mother. The same flirtatious manner, all the while incredibly demure" he said in jest.

Louise was not pleased, "Has she no respect for her family?" she asked, watching as Anne giggled furiously with Peter. "Has your brother no respect for his?" I replied, for it was as much his fault as hers. Louise gave a resigned sigh, returning to her meal. "I believe our siblings are having a contest of who can embarrass the other family more" she muttered to her plate of venison.

"Molly darling?" Aunt Fanny asked from the other side of the table, "Yes Aunt? Can I be of assistance?" I asked, half-rising. My aunt shook her hand, motioning for me to stay seated. "Molly, the Squire has made a request" my Aunt said. I looked to the Squire, "And what would that request be?" I asked.

The Squire smiled widely, "I was wonderin' Miss Molly, would you be ever so kind, and entertain us with your lovely singing tonight?" he asked. I blushed furiously, I would play for anyone in the world, but singing was another matter. "I – I -" I stuttered at first, looking to the anxious faces which were now silent and waiting for my answer. "Please Molly" Helen and Georgianna began to beg.

"Yes, I would love to sing for you all" I said, earning a great accumulation of "Marvelous" and, "It has been a while since we heard a nightingale."

* * *

While at the pianoforte after dinner, before the concert was to begin, I began to softly play. I was soon aware of a presence behind me, and upon turning, I found it to be Mr. Rochester. "What song will you sing for us, Miss Allen?" he asked. I shook my head, "I don't know really. There are so many to choose from" I replied.

"May I?" he asked, referring to the music which was splayed upon the top of the pianoforte. I assented, and he immediately began perusing the sheets. I watched with fascination as he flipped through them as a expert musician does. His quiet "No, no, no, no, no. . .Yes!" he had found one to his satisfaction.

"I take it that you know this one" he said, displaying the title of the tune, the wear on the pages was familiar. I smiled, "Yes, sir. An old favorite of my uncle's. He loved when Georgia and I played this" I replied, watching as he set it before me. "Very well. Begin" he commanded, but at my look he chuckled, "I mean, if you would be so kind" he repeated.

A smile on my face, I bravely caught the attention of the others, and began the beginning notes of the piece "Life Let Us Cherish"


	16. Chapter 16

The song finished, the flourish of notes ended. Applause from every pair of hands ensured me that I had not failed, and that my voice was still as strong as it had been six months before.

It was then suggested, that I sing a duet. With whom? Was the next question, and it was echoed throughout the room. But the inquiry was ended when Aunt Polk turned to Mr. Rochester. "Did you not tell me that you sang, Mr. Rochester?" she asked.

"Yes, Ma'am" he replied, "If it is your wish, and if Miss Allen agrees, a duet sounds delightful" he looked toward me. "Capital" I responded as he approached the pianoforte, "This time," he said, "it is your turn to choose. Choose wisely, if I disagree I will not sing it" he declared.

"Then I shall take care, and choose a ditty which you would approve" I replied, going through the pages as he had done before. However, I had already chosen the song in my head, but I decided to jest with him. "How about this one?" I asked, showing him the piece. I quickly busied myself with the adjustments of my skirts, so as to hide the smile which fought to show on my face. When sure that I was composed, I once more raised my eyes to his.

His look was one of absolute wonderment, "'Molly Bawn'? You cannot be serious" he stated, I shook my head with laughter.

"No, but it would be amusing" I replied, choosing the piece which I had decided on. I handed him the sheet, to which he assented. "Much more appropriate." he commented, placing the pages so my eyes could read. With an introduction, we began.

_"The last link is broken that bound me to thee,_

_And the words thou hast spoken have render'd me free;_ _That bright glance misleading on others may shine,_ _Those eyes smiled unheeding when tears stream'd from mine._ _If my love was deemed boldness the sorrow is o'er,_ _I've witnessed thy coldness, I prize thee no more;_ _I have not loved lightly, I'll think on thee yet,_ _I'll pray for thee nightly, 'till life's sun is set."_ The pages seemed to turn themselves, as Mr. Rochester assisted my fumbling with his own fingers, turning the page. "And here I thought you were an expert musician" he taunted during the interlude, "I never said that" I replied continuing with the next stanza. _"The heart thou hast broken once doted on thee,_ _And the words I have spoken proved sorrow to me;_ _Oh, hadst thou then treasured my words spoken free,_ _Thou could'st not have measured my own love to thee._ _But oh, thou hast sorrowed the heart that was thine,_ _I'll return to thee borrowed, the one I thought mine;_ _I have not loved lightly, I'll think on thee yet,_ _I'll pray for thee nightly, 'till life's sun is set."_

We ended quite well, with a resounding 'E sharp'. Indeed, for much later I was told how marvelously we sang together – or rather, how marvelous Mr. Rochester's voice sounded. Mellow and full of power, his passion had mingled and had – according to Mr. Bolton, Aunt Fanny, and Miss Gold – accompanied my rather soft and serene tones. Fire and ice, was one analogy given by George, who had joined us while I sang the first song.

Mrs. Greene was even inclined to compliment the music, though I am convinced that it was for Mr. Rochester, not I. She then suggested a reading, by Anne. Georgianna however, was suggested by William and Richard, for they said that Anne had read the other night. "I do not mind," Anne said, "I'm sure that Georgianna is a splendid reader" she then joined William and Richard's pleas. I then insisted that Dr. Hart accompany her to the library, and together they chose 'The Faerie Queen'

* * *

". . .For there is nothing lost, which cannot be found, if sought" Georgianna finished, to which she was heartily applauded. Dr. Hart had, half-way through the reading, given up. His reason being that he was a terrible reader. Although it was initially fought, he was allowed to leave the stage.

I was pleased with the glances which Dr. Hart and Georgianna then exchanged, my cousin looked genuinely happy. Upon noticing my direct gaze, they both blushed furiously, hiding their faces as if they were guilty for a stolen kiss. I chuckled.

"You did not blush, Miss Allen, when we finished our duet" Mr. Rochester whispered in my ear, for he sat beside me.

"I had no need to blush Mr. Rochester. For I do not fancy you as Georgianna fancies Dr. Hart" I replied.

He scoffed, "You are quite blunt in your fancy. What is wrong with me? Am I too brash for your ladylike delicacy? Perhaps you don't like the way I look? Come now, I demand an answer!" he said with insult.

I smiled, "I always thought that you favored my talent for being as blunt as a club. I see I was mistaken, for you have taken more insult than I meant to give" I told him, craning my head to look at his face. "And as for your brash tendencies, they are tolerable. Your face? Humph. Not handsome enough to tempt me" I taunted, all seriousness and contemplation in my tone.

Mr. Rochester laughed, "And if I told you that I found you handsome? Then what? Would you think me handsome if I flattered you?" he asked.

"No, sir. I am not as shallow minded as some. And flattery is as vain words to me. I would rather you insult me with a tongue of truth; than flatter me with the bile of deceit. I do not flatter you on a whim. Indeed, I fear I insult you more than flatter, though it is not my intent" I disclosed.

"What? Not your intent to insult? You add insult to injury at that remark" he declared.

"Indeed sir? How so?"

"Because for you to do it unintentionally, is worse than if you did intentionally. It means you cannot control it" he said, crossing his arms.

"Then I ask for your forgiveness, sir. And I shall endeavor to control my impulses in the future" I said, returning my attention to the next entertainment. Louise and Helen tinkering on the harp.

"Your request for forgiveness is noted" Mr. Rochester said curtly, clearly perturbed.

I stole one last glance at him, smiling inwardly. In many ways, he was easy to deal with. You simply have to have the right words. This thought in my mind, I watched the rest of the entertainment.

* * *

Thursday morning broke, revealing that it was indeed a cold day. I strolled in the garden, my thoughts preoccupied. A book of poetry in my hands, I pondered the previous night's events. For after the entertainment, discussions were held, cards were played, and the evening became rather boorish. Even Mr. Rochester had been dragged to a table by Louise, where they played whist for the rest until midnight.

I found my delight in being a silent observer, looking over Mr. Rochester's shoulder – which he did not seem to mind. I had found him to be an exceptional card player, for he would never reveal his cards by the expression on his face. A bold move would never be anticipated, for he often expressed the opposite of what he thought.

My observations of Anne and Peter continued, with Louise and I making comments from time to time. It was clear, Anne had now changed her cap and set it on Peter. I feared for the man, but alas, I could do nothing but look on. He seemed to take in the attention with joy, altogether grateful for her smiles, and sweet-tempered looks.

Georgianna and Dr. Hart stayed to themselves all evening, speaking in hushed tones. I was sure that they would acknowledge their admiration for one another soon, for it was clear to everyone present. Even Mrs. Bolton could not help but exclaim "I wonder what they're doing over there, in that corner? They refuse to come and play a game of pique, and they refuse to speak to anyone else. If anyone who was a stranger to them came into the room, they would think they were married!" the table erupted in laughter, for it was the truth. I wondered, did they know they were so indiscreet?

All around me, I saw smiles of happily married – or in some cases, courting as it seemed – couples. My heart ached, desiring that feeling for myself. How often a woman thinks of marriage, when she sees others who have what she desires. Indeed, for it is in a woman's nature to dream of a husband, strong, chivalrous, handsome, loving, and brave. For if that was not truth, then there would be no novels. All songs would be from a man's perspective. Indeed, for there would be no reason for love at all! Were it not for the nature of human beings to want to love, and be loved – then we all would be heartless creatures. Soulless, without any hope, or home.

It is a space, which without it, we feel incomplete.

And these feelings, I shall admit, coursed through me over the events of the evening. My eyes wandered throughout the room, landing on several of the unmarried men. One thought dominated them all: did men feel the same? Did they feel that need for companionship? For a soul which could be beside them through all of their lives? Surely they feel the need for that. They are not heartless monsters! They have hearts, and souls just as much as any woman does. And yet, they are happy to live alone. Bachelors, condemning the married state.

A confusing fact, but a truthful one.

On these points, I found myself wondering the next day. Questions unanswered, for only a man could answer them. But what man would tell me the truth of the matter? I could think of one, but surely he would find it humorous that I made these conclusions. Besides, he was one of these bachelors.

With this debate in my mind, I was soon aware of another presence in the garden. Two as a matter of fact. "There she is" it was Georgianna, accompanied by Mr. Rochester.

"Ah, sitting with her hair flowing over her shoulders like Dian in her orb. A chaste virgin, untouchable." Mr. Rochester said.

I reached a hand to my head, my hair was indeed down. Quite improper for a young lady, but I cared not. "At least I am considered as a virgin sir, for I was afeared you might have referenced me as Venus. A passionate and intemperate creature, whose object is to seduce the mere mortal man" I replied.

"You are no Venus, Miss Allen. I have met Venus, and you are not her" he declared.

"Indeed sir. I'm sure you have" I muttered, clearing my throat. "What did you seek me for? Now that I am found, I wish to know why I was entreated" I said.

"Because we wished to seek you." Georgianna said, sitting next to me.

"I thank you cousin. And I repeat my question, what did you seek me for?" I persisted.

"Mr. Rochester asked if you had woken, I told him I knew not, and so we set out to find you"

"I thank you for your pains" I replied, opening my book.

A thought occurred to me, and I had devised upon a plan, which I now was determined to discover the true feelings of my cousin. "What a pity that Dr. Hart shares not your passion for reading" I said.

Georgianna scoffed, "It was your fault, you insisted he read, completely ignoring the fact that he is shy, and then you made him nervous" she defended.

"Me? Ha!" I said, turning my eyes to the page.

"Though I must say, that although you have much criticism over him, I believe you like him. For all of his faults" Georgianna said, nudging me in the shoulder.

I took her hand, "I believe that he is very admirable, amiable, kind, and warmhearted. He is everything a man should be, and more." I began, looking her in the eye, "But he will have my unswerving devotion and loyalty until death, when you tell me that he will soon be my cousin. That we will all be family. How will I do without you, my dearest friend" I said, ignoring her protests.

"You misunderstand Mary" (She never called me Mary, unless she was truly upset) "We are not – that is – we are friends, and friends alone" she said firmly.

"Isn't marriage just friendship taken to another step?" I asked.

"We do not love each other – we simply – I mean – I admire him. I care for him. And I – I like him" she stuttered out, looking toward the ground.

"You simply admire him? You like him? Are you mad?" I asked. "Say those words to describe Dr. Hart, and I will go into the house and not speak to you for the remainder of the day." I declared, rising from my seat.

"Stay, Mary, I am sorry" Georgianna said, "You are simply far too ahead of anything that is happening. Fredrick and I – that is to say – Dr. Hart and I, enjoy each other's company immensely" she said with finality.

"Very well" I replied with a scoff, walking a few feet away. "Though I must admit that. .." I raised my pitch, so as to mimic her voice, "I enjoy him immensely, that I admire him" with a laugh I walked toward Mr. Rochester. To my surprise, he offered his arm. I took it, and we began to walk away.

"That I _like _him" I finished, walking out of the garden, leaving her to think for herself.


	17. Chapter 17

Dinner at the Hamiltons was much more taxing on my mind than I anticipated. For Mrs. Travers had married off all of her own daughters, and therefore had taken it into her head to marry off everyone else's. She had succeeded with Henrietta, and fancied herself quite the matchmaker. She had taken to boasting, and was now occupied with raucous talking.

"You see, Mrs. Polk, I told you I'd get one of your girls married yet. " Mrs. Travers exclaimed, pointing to Mr. Gibson and Henrietta, who sat beside each other. "Indeed you did. And I believe that Hetta is very happy with Mr. Gibson." Aunt Fanny replied. "When is the wedding?" Mrs. Travers inquired.

"In May, Hetta wanted a spring wedding" my Aunt replied. Henrietta leaned over to whisper in Gibson's ear.

"She tells him in his ear, that he is in her heart" I muttered to Georgianna, she giggled. "You read too much Shakespeare my dear cousin." she responded with a shake of the head.

"Aye, she does" Mr. Rochester commented from across the table, "She will argue on hours of whether Hamlet was right or wrong on his actions regarding his uncle"

"I still believe that things could have been handled better" I retorted.

"You see?" Mr. Rochester told my cousin.

"You should hear her recite Taming of the Shrew, it was a favorite of hers many years ago" Georgianna commented.

"It still is" I said.

"What are you three talking of?" Mrs. Travers inquired

"Shakespeare Madam" I replied.

"Shakespeare? Of course. I forgot Miss Molly, you were always fond of Shakespeare." Mr. Hamilton said.

"But which play?" Mrs. Travers asked.

"Taming of the Shrew, Hamlet, and Much Ado About Nothing" I said, listing the three works that had come into conversation.

"Its a shame you have no love for Romeo and Juliet." Mrs. Travers lamented.

"It is a tragedy. And I have no need for tragedy, my life has been filled with enough" I said.

"But it is romantic" Mrs. Travers argued.

"It is romantic until the end. They both met rather pathetic ends. As did Ophelia, Guinevere and Desdemona."

"To die for love?" Henrietta asked, "How can you say so? What could be more glorious?"

"To live for love perhaps." I replied. "For if you die, what trials do face together? You die, that is the end. Fini. No more. You cannot continue life, or love."

"But it is better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all." Aunt Fanny said.

"And I agree with that doctrine. What I do not agree with is killing oneself in the effort of 'I cannot live without the other, therefore I shall die' Love is work is it not?" I asked.

"It is" Mr. Rochester replied, "But your beliefs are rather contrary to all the different songs and poetry. For they long for death"

"They were all heartbroken, and who when heartbroken does not dwell on thoughts of death? It is not the thought of death I speak of; it is the thought of life, when all hope is gone. When you do not think that you will love again. Why cut your life short? For when Romeo believed that Juliet was dead, if he had not killed himself, she would have woken. And they could have lived happily ever after." I reasoned.

"She has a point mama" Mr. Hamilton said, Mrs. Travers scoffed. "Bah, there's no reasoning with this girl" she said, I laughed, "You simply do not have a good argument" I replied.

"Speaking of hearts" Mrs. Travers continued, "Miss Georgianna, no doubt your heart will be with another soon." Mrs. Travers said, laughing abruptly, Mr. Hamilton joined her. Georgianna blushed, "I have no idea what you mean" she replied.

Mrs. Travers wagged a finger, "Now, now, Miss Georgianna, we all are aware of a certain man whose name starts with 'F'" she said, Georgianna looked her square in the eye, "I don't know what you mean Mrs. Travers." she replied.

"Come, come, Miss Georgianna, we all know of your attachment. No need to be coy. No doubt he will ask for your hand soon" Mrs. Travers declared.

"I repeat madam, I know not of whom you speak" Georgianna insisted.

"Do you not!" Mr. Hamilton exclaimed, "Anyone watching knows of an attachment"

"However, sir" I said, breaking into the fray, "seeing as nothing is set in stone. You cannot, in any way, insinuate. For all you know, there may be another whose heart is my cousins. Attraction doesn't mean much. I am sure sir, that you were attracted to a great deal of women, before you married Miss Travers" I said.

The table was silent, then Mr. Hamilton and Mrs. Travers laughed, "Aha, Miss Allen, you defend your cousin." Mr. Hamilton said.

"Sir, I do not-"

"No, no. Defend her my dear, it is your nature. You have always been one to stand for those who you are friends with. Be it the Miss Walter's, or any other whom you deem worthy." he said, turning to Mrs. Travers, "Mother, we shall tease Miss Georgianna no more." Mrs. Travers agreed, returning to her meal.

"Tell me, Mr. Rochester" Mr. Hamilton began, "Are you a married man?" he asked.

Mr. Rochester smiled, "And if I answer, to what purpose will it be?" he answered.

"To what purpose? To my satisfaction. That is, if you don't mind too much" Mr. Hamilton replied.

"To your satisfaction? If I tell you I am a married man, you will ask me where my wife is. To which, I may, or may not answer." Mr. Rochester said, I smiled, I knew he was not married, but they didn't. "If I tell you I am not a married man," he continued, "Then you will ask me why not, and I will be one of the most eligible bachelors in the country for the next few weeks. Therefore, I shall say neither. For in either case I will be asked questions which I have no desire to answer"

Mr. Hamilton and Mrs. Travers laughed to each other, "I take it then, that you are not married." Mr. Hamilton said, "For only a unmarried man would answer so enigmatically"

"How do you know that I am not married? For all you know, I am. For all you know, I may be hiding a wife in a blocked off wing of the house. An attic is the most opportune place." he jested of course, but I could not help but feel uneasy. It was as if he was telling us something, all in the name of jest. There was a blocked off part of the house, but surely he was only joshing. I thought no more of it.

The table was in laughter, he was an amusing man to be sure.

"A wife in the attic? Miss Molly," Mr. Hamilton brought me into the conversation, "Is there a wife in his attic?"

I looked at Mr. Rochester, was I going to play this game?

"I wouldn't know sir" I answered truthfully, "I have never entered the attic. But if I were to take the example of Blue Beard, who gave the keys of the house to his wife, with the instructions not to open one closet. And when she did, she found the skeletons of Blue Beards previous wives. That being said, perhaps Mr. Rochester does have a wife in his attic? I suppose we won't know until he marries."

Mr. Hamilton laughed, "Blue Beard? The fool shouldn't have given her the damn keys, if he didn't want her to find out."

"You hear that Mr. Rochester, don't give the keys to your wife!" I jested to him, he smiled, but his eyes were not filled with mirth.

"Now, now, Miss Allen." Mrs. Travers said, gaining my attention, "We have to find you a husband" she announced, lowering her voice, "But I do believe that your heart is somewhere in London at present."

I lowered my eyes to my plate, the entire table silenced, "And whom do you refer to, Mrs. Travers?" I inquired.

"Ha! Now you play Miss Georgianna's game." she exclaimed.

"Ah, but Georgianna has an attachment. I'm afraid Mrs. Travers, my heart is quite free."

"Free?" she said incredulous, "A girl like you never frees herself from love"

"Then you must have spent very little time with girls like myself. For we all know how to sever ourselves when the need arises" I stated.

"So if you see him again, you will act as indifferent acquaintances? My dear Miss Allen, how little you know yourself" Mrs. Travers said.

"I encouraged Georgianna to invite him to the ball. His presence will be of little consequence to me"

"Only because he is married" she stated.

"My heart was only borrowed, I have redeemed it." I replied.

"Have you? I suppose I shall see for myself on Friday next. I shall keep a close watch on you, and if he has upset you in any way – which I'm sure he will – I shall take you out of the room and tell you that I warned you" she announced.

"Please do Mrs. Travers. For if I know myself so little, I would like every opportunity to acquaint myself with my personality and habits" I quipped.

"Will you speak with him?" Mrs. Travers asked.

"I would see it as my duty to have some chat, for he is a guest. It would be most improper to ignore such an acquaintance"

Mrs. Travers and Mr. Hamilton laughed, "Very well, let us leave the topic then. For we will get nowhere with you. You will run around, and avoid all questions as if they were the plague." Mr. Hamilton said.

My eyes settled on William, he gazed strangely, but then turned back to his plate. I wondered for a moment, but was soon dragged into conversation with Hetta.

* * *

"Will we never have a moment's peace? I cannot believe that she is so decided on marrying us all off." I said with exasperation when we entered the foyer at Branhurst.

"Is it that you cannot believe it,or is it that you know but still are irate?" William inquired.

"At what time is a woman safe from her meddling? And at what age is a man safe?" I asked, pointing to Mr. Rochester. "Did you not see, William, how she matched every single woman in the neighborhood to him? She is ridiculous"

"Ridiculous or no, Hetta is grateful. Without her, she never would have met Gibson" he said, Henrietta nodded, "Tis true cousin"

"And poor Georgia" I went on, "I know I'm rather teasing, but Mrs. Travers is relentless! All through the night, making comments about Mr. 'F'" I stormed.

"I ask again, is it that you cannot believe it, or is it that you do not wish to?"

"I can believe it cousin, it simply is – ugh – she should mind her own affairs, and keep her nose out of ours" I replied.

"You only say that because she suggested to insist on you dancing with Thomas Morton at the ball. I'm surprised you agreed. I thought you hated the man?"

"I do" I declared, taking off my cloak, "He is the most arrogant, disagreeable, impertinent, insufferable of men" I ranted, beginning to stalk up the stairs.

"For hating him, you seem to think of enough adjectives for him." Henrietta said.

"Superfluous amounts of adjectives." Georgianna added.

"They are true. And Mrs. Travers is simply wishing to irritate me." I concluded, "However," I thought, "if he does come, all attention will be concentrated on Morton and myself, the will not even think of Charles" I said aloud.

"Say what?" William asked, "Can you speak up? I don't think I heard you right"

"If Morton comes, then all will be worried on whether this time we will kill each other. So much so, that Charles will be the last person in their minds. Don't you see?" I asked.

"Your intellect is dazzlingly confusing" he replied dryly.

"Georgianna" I called out to my cousin, "Have you invited Mr. Morton?"

She and Henrietta exchanged a look, "Out of cordiality only," Georgianna replied, "I do not think that he will come however, Hetta included a note warning him that you were coming"

I was sure that my eyebrows had disappeared, "You warned him?" I asked.

"Well, we wanted to make him fully aware. No use in being unprepared" Henrietta said. William and I burst out in laughter, "Ah yes, because Molly is as volatile as a hot-shotted cannon" William said, holding his side.

"William" I said, once I had suppressed my mirth, "I need you to make sure the Morton comes" he looked at me. "You're not serious." he said. I smiled, ascending the stairs. That was all the answer he needed. "Little vixen" he muttered under his breath.


	18. Chapter 18

That night, I was restless. Trying, and failing, to allow myself to sleep. I knew not the cause, but I decided to negate the effect by reading. I had not read two chapters before I fell asleep. My sleep, however, was no more restful than my wakefulness.

My dreams were confusing to be sure, and when I awoke they were even more baffling.

I dreamt that I was at Thornfield, and I had been woken by a sound. A laugh. Cautiously, I opened my bedroom door, and peered out into the hallway. It was hazy, but I could still hear laughter from down the hall. In the old governess' room as a matter of fact. "Who's there?" I called to the darkness, but there was no reply. I took a candle, and gingerly stepped into the hallway.

The door to Jane Eyre's room was ajar, and inside I could see there was some sort of fire. There it was again, that same maniacal laughter. Frightened, as any would be, I opened the door. The sight that greeted me was terrifying. There a woman stood. Hair dark as a night without a star. She wore a nightgown, and was singing to herself.

_"Bye, __baby Bunting__._

_Father's gone a-hunting. _

_Mother's gone a-milking. _

_Sister's gone a-silking. _

_Brother's gone to __buy__ a skin, _

_to wrap the baby Bunting in" _

My heart was beating madly in my chest. She repeated the verse, then stopped abruptly. She turned, her face covered by a white veil. She tilted her head to one side, scrutinizing my appearance. I stared, petrified, unable to move as my fear was overtaking me. I noticed that there was a dress, laid out on the bed, it was aflame.

She lifted her hands to her face, and began to pull at the material in front of her face. My heart beat faster, and my eyes must have widened for she stopped suddenly. A sick smile spread on her face. She lifted her hands and began twirling about the room. I watched with horrified fascination. Who was she?

The woman began cackling, she stooped at the fireplace, and took a piece of wood. She brought it close to me. I stepped back, unable to utter a cry for help as she began swinging it in my face. Her cackling grew evermore as my fear increased.

Finally, I regained control of my voice, and screamed out "Mr. Rochester! Mr. Rochester!" she snarled, hurling the wood directly into my face. I cried out, falling backwards as the embers hit the ground. Growling as an animal, she started attacking me, hitting me as hard as she could. "Mr. Rochester!" I called out one more time, I heard a pounding from down the hall -

I woke, heart beating fast as I quickly surveyed my surroundings. I was safe in my bed at Branhurst, no one was hurting me. There was no crazed woman with a firebrand. My hair stuck to my face. I calmed down my breathing, gaining control of my senses. What did it mean?

I wouldn't be able to sleep now, and seeing as the clock on my mantle-piece read five-thirty, I decided I would simply stay awake. I dressed, and crept down to the library.

The house was quiet, for Eliza and Harvey and their children had arrived late. I lighted the fire, and sat in the chair beside it. 'Hamlet' in my hands.

* * *

That morning, we were informed that we would not be having dinner with the Squire. Giles and Henry had been delayed, and were not expected until Sunday. To which day, we agreed to reschedule. Saturday morning came, along with the Miss Dantons. As we had scheduled to go to Northampton to do some shopping.

Georgianna, the Miss Danton's, and myself were then tossed about in the carriage. Louise and Helen were happily chattering about which muslin they planned on getting for their dresses.

"They haven't even seen the shops. I wonder what they'll do when their eyes behold the various pieces of cloth, with which the finest garments can be made?" I asked Georgianna.

"I don't know," she replied, "But we'll be there to see it" we laughed, enjoying how amusing it would be for us for the next few hours. They chattered, mentioning how long it was since they saw Eliza and Harvey. "I absolutely adore Campbell, and as for Winifred. Ah, they are dears" Helen said about my niece and nephew.

"Yes, children usually are. Until they reach a certain age" I replied dryly, earning a chuckle from Louisa. "This, coming from a governess" Helen exclaimed.

"That is why I am a governess. After children reach a point, they are sent away to school. A governess is no longer required. She then moves to another family, spreading her governess-ly poison" I said facetiously.

"We never went to school" Georgianna commented, I smiled, "That's because Miss Gold is a tutor, not a governess" we both chuckled. She called herself a tutor once; henceforth, Georgianna, William and myself all called her a tutor.

"Here we are!" Helen beamed, climbing out of the carriage before anyone could stop her. We all followed, "Come back for us at three, Stevens. We'll eat some luncheon at the Black Lion" I told the driver, "Very good, Ma'am" he said, pulling the carriage away. I sighed, wishing that Miss Gold were here, but she had gone for a morning ride with the Squire.

"Are you ready to face the dragons Miss Allen?" Louise inquired. I laughed, "As ready as I'm able. For I have no time now" I replied as we linked arms and entered the first shop.

* * *

"No! No, I want it to be in this muslin."

"I already told you Ma'am, thats 5 shillings a yard" the shopkeeper at the third merchandise store argued with Helen.

"Louise? Can't I borrow a few shillings from you?" she whined.

"No, Helen. You already owe me a fortune" Louise declared.

"Molly?"

"You owe me a fortune as well, Helen. Six pounds to be precise" I replied, perusing the book which had all the styles.

Georgianna gave in, lending Helen the money needed. And, with praise to her friend, Helen bought the material her heart desired. "What fabric are you buying Molly?" Louise asked. I looked around, "I don't know. I haven't decided yet. I'm just looking at the various cuts, then I'll look for the fabric" I replied.

"What about this one for me?" Georgianna asked, showing me a striking crimson. I shook my head, "Not unless you want to go to that ball looking like a Spaniard." I replied, going through the cloth with Georgianna in mind. Perhaps if I could decide for her, then I would be able to decide for myself.

"You go to balls looking like a 'Spaniard'" Georgianna countered.

"I have the looks for it" I replied with false pride.

Georgianna shook her head, "You're ever so modest" she commented, "You do look like a Spaniard. I wonder if you are?" she asked, "It surely would account for your hot-blooded temper, which no Englishwoman has."

"Perhaps, though I was always under the impression it was the Irish in me that made me like that" I replied. "Hmm" was her only reply.

"Tell you what" she began, "If you let me pick your fabric, I'll let you pick out mine." she negotiated. I thought the proposition over, "As long as what you pick isn't ghastly I'll agree" I said, shaking hands with her in a contract. I then resumed my search.

There, at the bottom of the pile of cloth. The perfect dress material for Georgianna. A pale blue, with a flower print of silver. "Aha" I exclaimed, drawing the fabric out and showing it to her. "What do you think? It will bring out your eyes, and the reddish tint of your hair" I declared. She looked it over, and laughed, "You were always better at this than I. For I don't think that anyone has a proper idea of themselves." she said. I agreed, and we set that material aside.

"Now," Georgianna said with glee, "It is my turn to pick out yours" she immediately began searching the fabrics with ardor. I smiled, and sat back, waiting for her to finish.

"I'm surprised that Mr. Rochester did not join us" Georgianna declared, my attention was diverted from the styles to her.

"Why in heaven's name would he want to. I don't think that any man would want to accompany any woman on a shopping trip. Especially these" I replied, pointing to Helen and Louise.

"Well, he seems to be a man of great taste. And being so, I would have liked him to come. Wouldn't you?" she asked, keeping her head down. I raised an eyebrow, "Georgia, look at me" she did as requested, "What is all this?" she looked confused.

"Whatever do you mean cousin?" she asked.

"You know what I mean, why this sudden interest in Mr. Rochester and his fine taste?"

"I would think that, for someone like you, you would want another's opinion" I could see her wincing at what she was saying.

"And what makes you think that?" I inquired.

She stumbled on her words, "Well, because, you seem to like what he thinks. And he you."

"And? Why would that inspire me to request his presence while we do this?" I said waving a hand to indicate the situation.

"No reason" Georgianna replied. But I knew there was more.

"Georgia, is there something you wish to tell me?" I asked. She shook her head, "Nothing at all?"

"No, cousin. Nothing" she declared, resuming her task. "Found it" she exclaimed, pulling out a beautiful gold fabric.

"Gold?" I asked.

"You said as long as it wasn't ghastly" she retorted, taking it to lay beside hers.

* * *

"I know exactly how I want mine cut, I shall look very worldly" I described to Louise as Georgianna browsed the selection. Pointing to one, "How shall that look?"

"Adorable, my love, as always" I replied,

She laughed, "No" she said.

"Mhmm" I insisted.

"Georgia, Molly, was William supposed to come into town today?" Louise asked from the window.

"No, but he's done it before" I replied, going to her side. There William stood on the opposite side of the street, "Is that Mr. Rochester with him?" Louise asked, pointing to the tall man whose back was turned.

"Yes, Louise, I think it is" I replied, watching as William pointed straight at us and the man turned. It was indeed Mr. Rochester. "That's unexpected" I said as they approached the shop. The bell on the door announced their entrance.

"Good afternoon sisters, cousin, Miss Helen, Miss Danton" William greeted, his eyes lingering on Louise.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Polk" Louise replied coyly.

"Good afternoon cousin. Why are you here?" I asked, he looked at me and sighed.

"Well, Rochester and I are waiting for Hart. We decided to luncheon with you, since we were already coming. We went to all the other shops, and they told us that you had been there."

"But had promptly left" Mr. Rochester added.

"Therefore, it led us here" William said.

I looked at the clock, "Sounds marvelous. We are finished I believe" I said, looking to the others who nodded in reply.

"I would guess that we have to wait to find out what the goddesses have decided to adorn themselves with" William said with exasperation.

"You guess correctly cousin" I replied, gathering my bonnet and shawl. We then proceeded to the 'Black Lion' and waited for Dr. Hart.

* * *

When we returned to Branhurst, a recalled the events from the day. Dr. Hart had – as usual – monopolized Georgianna's time. William and Louise spoke to each other with enthusiasm. I was left to speak to Helen and Mr. Rochester.

I snickered as I began to wonder, just when would all these people who loved each other, be honest?


	19. Chapter 19

Sunday morning we all gathered at the parish to listen to Mr. Bolton's sermon on 'Vanity Fair'. We were not confused as to why he chose this particular subject. Indeed, for it was rather obvious, seeing as the ball was only a few days away.

It was right when Reverend Bolton began to speak of the evils of a vain mind that Campbell took it into his head to begin crying – loudly I might add. Eliza tried shushing him, unsuccessfully, as he continued to wail. She received nothing for her efforts except a harsh glare from Reverend Bolton.

"Molly" Eliza whispered to me, almost as if asking for my assistance. I looked to Aunt Fanny for approval, she nodded. I stood taking my nephew with me. Once out of the church, and into the crisp morning air, Campbell immediately quieted to a small whimper. Laying his head on my shoulder, I then took care to lull him to sleep.

"And to think, I used to wonder why you were a governess" I heard Mr. Rochester say from behind me.

I smiled, "Do you know now?" I asked.

"Yes, you have a gift with children. They trust you without question. They find comfort in you." he said.

I looked at the doors of the church, "Why doesn't it surprise me that you are no longer listening to Reverend Bolton?" I asked him, turning.

He grinned, "Because you know me very well." he replied.

"Do I?" I asked. "Or do I only know what you allow?"

"I admire your perspicacity." he said dryly.

"Why thank you, sir. However, you have not answered my question" I reminded him.

"Did you expect me to?"

"No. You don't tend to answer questions that you have no wish to answer. Which is why, I suppose, that I know so little of your past" I replied.

His face darkened, "You don't want to know my past" he muttered.

"And what if I did ask questions?"

"You wouldn't get far" he said curtly.

"Which was my point to begin with; I only know what you allow" I said, "Not that I'm surprised. Not many masters need their employees knowing their personal affairs."

"Would you want to know my personal affairs?" he asked.

"I don't think I'll answer that" I replied, watching as the parishioners began to file out of the doors.

"You mean you don't wish to answer it? And I wish to have an answer." he said.

"Do you order me to answer it?" I asked.

"Will you do it if I order you to?"

"I will consider it my duty, as your paid subordinate to do as you order without question" I replied.

"You are very conscious of the salary aren't you?"

"It creates the difference between yourself and I" I replied.

"You are a gentleman's daughter, and therefore my equal, for I am a gentleman. Therefore, I inquire of you to answer" Mr. Rochester reasoned.

"But if I was your equal, I would not require a salary. Therefore, though gentleman's daughter, I am not your equal" I said.

"I say you are my equal." Mr. Rochester argued.

"And if you say it, it is so?"

"You said you would obey my orders, and that is my order. Speak."

"I'm sorry sir, I have forgotten the question" I replied.

"Do you wish to know of my past?" he repeated.

I paused, collecting my thoughts. "Yes, and no. Though I'm afraid, sir, we've had this exchange before. I wish to know more of you, as it only the curiosity of a young woman." I said, "But sometimes, you frighten me to an extent that I have no desire to know more about you. I feel as if, if your soul were laid bare, I would be able to contend."

"If my soul were laid bare at your feet, what would you do?"

"I would know all I could sir, and then try to help you in any way"

"You would not trample it?"

"No, sir. For I do not see it fitting to trample any soul, not even if they deserve it."

"And if I told you all, would you leave it a fit of fear? Would you leave _me_?"

"No, sir. I would listen, most patiently, and when the time came, I would do what I could as your friend"

"Are you my friend?" he asked.

"I hope so sir, for I consider you as a friend"

"But you say you are not my equal."

I chuckled, "You have ordered me to think of us as equals. And I shall consider us so. Yes sir, so we are."

"So we are" he said softly. Campbell woke, and was now tugging on my hair, freeing a curl.

"Molly!" Eliza called, coming toward us. Mr. Rochester walked away, leaving me standing in the cemetery. Campbell reached out to his mother, clinging to her instantly. "Thank you Molly, he wasn't too much trouble I hope" Eliza said, I shook my head, "Not at all" I replied.

"Thank you Molly" Harvey said, "Campbell, you know what I had told you. You weren't supposed to make a ruckus in church. Now Reverend Bolton is unhappy with your mother and me" he reprimanded his son. Campbell just tucked his head into the crook of his mother's neck, and closed his eyes. Harvey laughed, "Little tyke" he said, ruffling his son's red hair.

"Aunt Fanny" Anne called out, Peter Danton trailing behind her, "Mrs. Polk" he greeted. My aunt exchanged the usual greeting, inquiring about his family. He replied with politeness that they were well, and inquired about us. Then Anne decided to cut in.

"Aunt Fanny, Mr. and Mrs. Danton have invited me for the afternoon"

"We'll have her back by ten, I promise" Peter interrupted.

"But Anne, have you forgotten our dinner with the Squire?" I reminded.

"Oh, Molly, I had forgotten. But it would be rude to turn down the invitation to Holstrom. Mrs. Danton invited me particularly" Anne insisted.

"Perhaps I could accompany you" Mrs. Greene intervened, "I would like to see Holstrom, we get so little invited these days" she said.

"But Mrs. Greene, the Squire has invited us all. It has been spoken of for the last week. You cannot disappoint him, Anne." I said.

"Your sister is right, Anne, the Squire has invited us for tonight. You are engaged for the evening" Aunt Fanny said, Anne touched Peter's arm and walked a few feet away. He followed her.

"Perhaps she is right Peter, I should go to dinner with the Squire" Anne said in hushed tones, Peter became irate.

"But Mamma wishes for you to come with us tonight" he said.

"I know, but, they are right. I cannot accept your invitation" she said again, walking back toward us.

"Peter, I'm sorry" he turned to me, "But, the Squire has already made arrangements. Giles and Henry are going to be there, and the Squire has made it clear, he wishes for Anne to meet them" I said.

"Then perhaps, Molly," Peter began curtly, "She can come to us tomorrow?" I sighed.

"Of course, you can fetch her whenever you like, Danton" Richard answered for her.

"Thank you" Peter replied curtly, "Mrs. Polk, Richard, William, Mr. Rochester, Miss Polk, Miss Georgia," he paused, "Miss Allen" I winced, for his voice was laced with such anger. "Anne" he said tenderly, kissing her hand and walking back toward his family. Anne walked ahead of us, and got into the carriage.

Mrs. Greene huffed, "All because of the Squire. My dear Mrs. Polk, do you not want your niece to meet with eligible young men?" she inquired, "All because Molly doesn't agree. I think that Anne could have benefited from dinner with the Dantons"

"It has nothing to do with eligibility" I replied, "Anne has already been engaged for the last week for dinner at Lowton Cottage. It is impolite for her to throw it off like that"

"Dinner at Lowton is easily arranged. She could have dined with them later"

"Dinner at Lowton is very important, Mrs. Greene. The Squire has already postponed it. If the Dantons wish to have dinner with my sister, they can arrange for it another time. Which, if you have noticed, they have done" I stated.

Mrs. Greene pursed her lips in agitation, "The Squire would not have minded Anne going to Lowton another time"

"He would have minded her bad manners" I replied.

"Thats what you think, and if you have not noticed, I am much older than you. I know the Squire" she said.

"But," Miss Gold intervened, "Molly does have a point. It is very bad manners for a girl of Anne's age to go making arrangements without her guardian's knowledge."

"My point exactly. Thank you Miss Gold" I said, looking around.

"I don't agree with you. You are too precocious for your own good" Mrs. Greene said, climbing into the carriage.

"Aunt Fanny" I called to her just as she was about to enter the carriage.

"Yes Dear?" she turned.

"I think I will walk home."

"Walk? But Molly, look at the clouds, its going to rain!" William said.

"Its not going to rain, besides even if it does, I like the rain" I argued, turning on my heel and beginning to walk.

"You always say that, and then it always does. If you walk in it, you'll catch cold." William called out.

"Go with her William" Aunt Fanny ordered, receiving a 'Yes, Mama'

Soon, William walked beside me, and the carriage rolled away.

* * *

"She will be the most determined flirt, Cousin, that is what I am afraid of" I said abruptly, I realized that Mr. Rochester was beginning to influence my speaking. "What if she decides at the ball that Peter is no longer a person of interest? His heart will be broken, and she will be responsible"

"She is young. And she was raised differently than you were"

"That is no excuse." I replied.

"Still, it is true. You must accept the fact that you and her are very different, Molly. She has not loved, and may never. She was raised to marry for security, you were encouraged to marry for love" William said.

"Nevertheless, she is thinking only of her own fortune. She doesn't love Peter any more than I love Mr. Morton – and that is known to be none at all" I said.

William sighed, "If Peter marries her, then let them be. You cannot knock sense into everyone's heads with logic. Even though you wish it. Not everyone can be you. Besides, if you stand in their way, Peter will only end up hating you." he stated.

"I know. I wish they could be like me, they would all be much happier" I jested.

William chuckled, "But they would not be them. All the better, for if everyone was perfect, what would us imperfections do? he said.

I scoffed, "You would have to understand us finally. No, it wouldn't do, I suppose. They find me confusing as it is, if they thought as I do they would be hopeless" I said, noticing that the clouds were beginning to get darker.

"William, the clouds are gathering" I stated.

"I know, I'm anxious to see when you tell Anne just what you think of her." he alluded.

"I was speaking of the actual clouds, cousin. But I know, I'm just waiting for the right moment." it began to drizzle, "We need to hurry our pace." I said, just as we heard a loud clap of thunder.


	20. Chapter 20

William and I returned an hour later, soaked to the bone. "I told you it was going to rain!" he shouted with an accusing finger.

I smiled, "I know you did. How do you like being right?"

"I am finding that I like it exceedingly." he replied, we began walking up the stairs to get ready, but were stopped by Eliza.

We were informed that Anne had a headache. That is what she told everyone, at any rate. I rolled my eyes, of course. She was being so spoiled, but I had other things to concern myself with. Mainly, getting dressed by the time we left.

The Squire was more than obliging, sending his condolences and hoping she would get better.

"I 'ad so wanted 'er to meet the boys" he said, "Ah, I guess maybe later. You women 'ave a strange way of going about things"

"Believe me Squire," I began, placing my hand on his arm, "I would have come, headache or no."

"Ah, I know you would, Molly. Say, what manner of girl is she? Your sister I mean?" he asked.

"You have met her, sir"

"I never 'ad a conversation with 'er you see. She was preoccupied with the Dantons, and I was 'aving a delightful conversation with Miss Barbara" he replied, smiling at her. She smiled in return.

"Yes, I noticed that" I commented dryly. He returned his gaze to mine, and I slowly began my thought. "I don't know how to describe Anne. When I first met her, she was delightful. She was shy, and modest. Now"(I sighed)"I'm not so sure. She was a shameless flirt with Mr. Rochester, and now she's just as much as a flirt with Peter Danton. I don't know what to think. Perhaps I'm wrong, I hope I am"

The Squire smiled, "You doubt yourself too much, Molly. If you 'ave an opinion, you must shout it. From the rooftops if necessary. Now, I don't know much about your sister, but I would say that she is like most young girls 'er age. 'er object is to get 'erself a 'usband. And if she finds that men are attracted to 'er looks, then she will use them to 'er advantage. Others 'ave done the same."

"That does not make it honorable. I will not deny that men do use women's looks as a basis on which to found their attachment. But that does not make it right. Perhaps it is who I am, I will marry for love, and nothing less" I replied.

The Squire chuckled, "And don't you dare, abandon that idea. It makes you, you. Marry for love, and don't compromise" he said, looking over my shoulder. I turned to see Miss Gold standing there. "Squire" she said in greeting. The Squire smiled broader, and kissed her hand.

"'tis good to see you 'ere, Miss Barbara" he said, "You look a little cold. Shall we sit by the fire?" he asked, she agreed, and together they walked to the fireplace.

"You ought not draw such a black picture of your sister, Molly" Henry said from behind me. He had, apparently, just come down the stairs.

"I don't draw a black picture." I retorted, "I'm just stating what I would have done"

"Aye, 'arry, you ought not make such assumptions about dear Miss Molly." his father added, he was apparently still listening. He then returned his attention to Miss Gold.

Henry smiled, "He's glad you're here Molly," he said, "As are we all."

"Thank you Henry, though you cannot say. You haven't been here" I teased.

"That does not mean I cannot miss you" he retorted with a laugh.

"My dear brother, whatever are you going on about?" Giles said, "Hello Molly" he greeted. I responded in kind, "Your sister is unwell, I hear" he said.

"Yes, it is a mere impediment of wishing her way, without saying it. A very conniving way of getting attention, in my opinion." I replied.

"Ah, you never did have respect for those kind. Say, where is this employer that you have written so often about?" Giles inquired, turning his head and observing Mr. Rochester. "I heard he accompanied you"

"Why do you ask, when you already know who the unrecognizable one is. But if you insist …" I trailed off, walking toward Mr. Rochester and introducing them.

"You are the mysterious employer, I'm surprised you're here to see your governess' family. That is not common" Giles commented. I sighed, "If he was common, he would not be Mr. Rochester. Though its a miracle that I have stayed in his employ for this long" I replied.

"Its not a miracle," Mr. Rochester said, "You are engaging. I have no desire to spend my days in the company of a child and a old woman. Both, have little to think, and even less to say that is worth noting."

"You are severe, Mr. Rochester. I find Mrs. Fairfax to be quite enjoyable" I replied.

"You would find a cat enjoyable. Quiet, serene, and not very exciting" he said.

"Are you saying I'm not exciting sir?" I asked.

"I'm saying, you don't know how to have fun" he declared.

"Then you don't know Molly" Henry interfered, "She has the best sense of humor that I know, willing to take every situation for its best points. Even though there is little faith in anything of the kind. You mistake her sir" he defended.

Mr. Rochester scowled, "Are you saying I don't know her character?" he asked.

"No" Henry replied, "I'm saying you don't know enough of her character. She is much more enjoyable than you, apparently, know. You have no doubt, seeing how you are speaking, been on the opposite side of her shrewd tongue?"

"Of course. Though I would say it is sharp, and cold at times" Mr. Rochester replied.

"Everyone here knows it is sharp when provoked. She knows weaknesses unfortunately, she is unforgiving at times" Henry agreed. "However, she is rather kind when she wishes to be. Very hard working"

"Indeed, she has created a sort of paradise at Thornfield. Or should I say, she has brought a version of her paradise back? The original paradise was much more inviting. She has a quieter version." Mr. Rochester said, his voice trailing off.

"Quieter, that is a way to describe her. Curled up in the window seat, a book in her hands, a sketchbook with a pencil between her fingers, a paintbrush making the smallest of strokes" Henry listed off.

"I only made those strokes for your sake, Henry. Your bugs were quite entertaining to you. And I was more than obliging" I replied with a smile. "Remember that one time that you brought me a butterfly display?"

Henry smiled, "I walked ten miles to bring it to you. And then got a cold for my troubles!"

"Ah, but we were sick together." I reminded him.

"A butterfly display?" Mr. Rochester asked.

"Yes, European Peacock. Or should I say, _Inachis io?" _I said with a tease in my voice. Henry was very particular about the technical names. Thank God I had learned Latin.

"It wouldn't interest you now, I'm sure" Henry stated.

"Of course it would. I still remember the names didn't I?" I asked, he said no more, for dinner was served.

Laughs, and enjoyment around the table kept us all busy. Henry would not stop talking, and was listened to with interest. I listened, and watched. Giles was rather entertaining, quoting poems, telling stories of his time at college. They laughed at their pranks, and hopes.

Though, Mr. Rochester was surprisingly quiet. I wished to ask, but did not pry. He seemed to have his mind elsewhere. Once or twice I noticed him looking to the heavens, his lips saying a name. When I saw it, I sighed.

Once again, he had said _'Oh, Jane'_

* * *

The next few days passed with joy. The house was alive with excitement, as the ball was only another few days away. I spent my time quietly, playing the piano, drawing, riding, and reading. Georgianna, Henrietta, and Eliza were busy planning the details. Richard, William, and Mr. Rochester had gone down to London for a few days, to fetch some materials needed. Anne was never at the Hall, for after her dinner with the Dantons on that Monday, she had been invited to stay at Holstrom. She would return the night of the ball.

Henry, however, had decided to come and visit with me that day. He brought a few books which he had just received. We decided to go for a walk, and he was telling me of what opportunities he had been offered.

"Mr. Coulson has given me quite the chance. I'm the top of my class, though I have to admit, it is not a career that I desire" Henry declared.

"I know. I cannot see you as a lawyer, you are too honest" I replied.

He chuckled, "I know, I say too much don't I?"

"No, you say what you think. Which in my opinion, every free-born human being should do." I said.

"Unfortunately, they don't, do they?"

I shook my head, "People are too afraid of others. A fault of mine as well. They like to side with both arguments, because they do not wish to upset others."

"You are so decided on your opinions. You like to challenge, yet you do not like to be challenged." he said with a laugh.

"No, I suppose I don't."

Henry and I said nothing for a few moments, "Why do you work for him?" he asked.

"Pardon?"

"Mr. Rochester, he seems to be the kind of person that you don't necessarily tolerate. He's cynical-"

"So am I, Harry"

"No, you're different. You try not to be cynical, he's cynical naturally" he exclaimed, I laughed.

"He's not naturally vicious, Henry. No more than you are naturally austere. He has a heart, even though sometimes it does not seem so. I've seen it, I will admit it is rare" I replied.

"Yet, when he is vicious, how do you stand it? I heard him on Sunday, he was cross, and quiet. Exactly the opposite that I would assume you would associate with" he said.

"I try to avoid the vicious times, he shows no respect for those who show fear. I'm not afraid of him, and he respects that."

"Were you never afraid?"

"At first, he was so odd that it was slightly frightening. However, as I spent more time in his presence, I realized something different. He's a wounded soul. I don't know his history, but there are things of his past – which I am sure – are rather unsavory. I don't ask questions"

"Do you have questions?"

"Yes, but I shall know in due time."

"How do you know that?" he asked, incredulous.

"All things must come to the light, my dear friend. No one can have secrets forever"

"But they can keep them till they get to their deathbeds" he replied.

"Perhaps" I said slowly, "but I believe he'll tell me. If not, I will know by the end"

"You have faith, why?"

I paused, "Because it lasts longest, when all hope is gone."

Henry smiled, "And here he thought you were cold and heartless. "

"He doesn't believe that Harry. He simply said it, but it is without basis." I replied, pulling my shawl over my shoulders.

"So it is." he said, leading me back to the house.


	21. Chapter 21

Katharine came at seven to dress me: and for a moment was rather distracted by the elegance of my gown.

"What do you think of it?" I asked at length, running my hand over the smooth satin.

"Its beautiful miss. If every man isn't in love with ye after tonight, then I am no judge of beauty" she said.

"Or men" I replied, admiring the satin red roses which were sewn into the neckline.

"Nah, they're too starved for pretty females." she responded, I blushed and laughed nervously.

"Thank you for the compliment Katharine. But that is a little much" I said. She laughed, and went about her task.

A few minutes later, a knock resounded at the door, the hollow oak making it louder. "Its me Molly" I heard Georgianna call from the other side. "Come in" I answered, and she then walked in with her own gown.

"I needed Katharine, so I thought I would come in here and not waste any time" she declared.

"Capital notion, cousin. Here Katharine, help her will you? I can finish here" I said, finishing the braid that she had started.

"It was a good thought, us matching I mean." Georgianna said as she admired her own dress.

"The only matching has to do with the roses. Even then we differ. I have red to my outlandish gold; and you have white to your elegant blue. I don't know if we could be more different" she laughed, and shook her head.

"We are very much alike, cousin. Even though you think not" Georgianna declared.

"I know, I have just been more acquainted to the knowledge of the world. Unwilling of course" I replied, looking myself over, "This is the dress I'm getting married in" I declared abruptly, Georgianna scoffed.

"Oh, is it? And here I thought you would be married in white like Her Majesty"

"No, its unrealistic. Every time I wear white, I always wind up getting it soiled within the first hour" I replied.

"Indeed, then perhaps a beige might suit you?" she asked.

"I don't like the color beige. It makes me look paler than I already am" I said.

Georgianna and Katharine laughed, "You are incorrigible. What if I were to tell you that the Queen has decreed that all women are to wear white on their wedding days?" Georgianna asked.

"Then I would tell you to show me in black and white." I retorted, looking back at the mirror. "I wish on my wedding day, to put on my favorite dress – this one as I now know – and simply walk to the church. I don't want anything fancy. Simple, quaint, sublime. Beautiful"

Georgianna finished dressing and came to stand beside me, she deftly took the hair from my fingers and fastened it into place with my comb.

"The goddess Athena would be jealous" she declared.

"I want no envy. But I must take a good look at you" I said, standing so as to scrutinize her appearance. "Dr. Hart's heart will stop the moment he sees you. Or he does not deserve to live" I said.

She raised an eyebrow, "Are you aware-"

"That that statement embodied a complete and utter contradiction? And also that Dr. Hart is no more than a friend to you?" I said, cutting her off "Yes, I was aware of those facts" she laughed, and muttered some comment about how 'I come up with things which make no sense, other than in my own mind' and with that, we finished dressing.

* * *

How to describe Branhurst that night, Reader, is quite a feat. For I had not seen its balls half as brilliant as then. My mind had been on other matters than decorations, for the last ball I had attended was a year before. But here, I shall describe to the best of my ability the brilliance.

The multitude of candles brought about a luminance that I found quite dazzling. Each little flame adding its light to the room. The colors on the walls seemed brighter, the yellow hues, the blues. The room which would have all the party's entertainment – this is, dancing – was in and of itself quite awesome. I was shocked when I realized that the room, which usually looked quite small, was in fact quite large with all the furniture placed on the outskirts. The room would easily accommodate fifteen couples. I could already picture the many couples who would court at this ball. Dancing to their contentment and delight, laughter and smiles exchanged with open hearts. The orchestra was on one end, on a small podium which was built just for them. When I say orchestra, I'm afraid I make it too big. It was, in fact, a quartet. Each player essential for the night to continue magically.

When Georgianna and I came down, I half expected for our guests to have already arrived, but found that only the Squire and the Boltons had. Even the Dantons and Anne were not here yet. Something which disturbed me.

"Georgia, Molly, how lovely you look" Aunt Fanny said in greeting.

"Thank you Aunt" I replied, and Georgianna embraced her mother, also saying 'Thanks'

"Ah, Molly, you look lovely" the Squire praised.

"You look quite dashing yourself Squire" I replied, he shrugged it off, instead praising his sons handsomeness.

"I'm sure that 'Enry and Giles will request a dance from you. You always were a favorite of the lads" he said.

"And if they do, Squire, then I shall not refuse them" I replied, he laughed, and approached Aunt Fanny to speak of matters which I cannot recall.

"Then may I reserve the mazurka?" Henry asked, momentarily shocking me by his stealth.

"Seeing as my dances have yet to be reserved, then you may Mr. Quincy" I answered with a curtsy, handing him my card.

He scribbled his name, "Don't get too tired, lest you miss our dance" Henry told me.

I shook my head "I promise" I declared. He opened his mouth to say something more, but was called away by his father. He looked to me, as if to say 'Do you wish it?' I nodded, and apologetically, he left.

Mr. Rochester came up from behind me, but now I was prepared to be startled. "Sir" I greeted before he could say anything. I curtsied."Expecting me Miss Allen?" he asked, I nodded, "Henry already startled me once tonight" I replied.

"Ah, yes. But you know each other enough so as not to worry too much about your delicate little heart pounding with fear." he said, I smiled.

"Yes, we do." I said, "But my heart is quite safe from fear with you. And being so, is quite calm"

Mr. Rochester held out his hand, to my bewilderment. My confusion must have made itself clear, for he quickly said, "Your dancing card, Molly" he ordered. I handed it to him, and he began to overlook the dances. He seemed to find some dances which he liked, for he scribbled his name – then handed it back to me. He bowed, and walked away – most likely to fetch another sherry.

I opened the card, and looked to see which dances he had reserved. He had, in fact, reserved three. The waltz, a polka, and the galop. One relatively slow, the others energetic. I had noticed, he also had written a little note to the top. I brought it closer to my eyes, and read what he wrote.

_'Be sure to leave yourself time to rest.' _

I almost laughed aloud, but remembered that no one else had read it. Looking over to where he was, I smiled, he looked as if he was trying not to watch my reaction. I quickly followed his advice, and crossed out two dances to rest in. The other polka, and the last galop. I dearly love to dance, and wanted to be able to do so as much as I pleased, but he was right.

The clock struck nine, and in the distance, I could hear the carriages arriving.

* * *

The dancing was divine, and after three dances – with the butcher, Dr. Hart, and bookshop keeper – the mazurka arrived. "Come Molly, you cannot dance now" Richard exclaimed, I shook my head, taking Henry's hand, "No Richard, I promised" I replied, allowing him to lead me to the dance floor.

"He is right you know" Henry said as the mazurka began.

"I shall rest after this one, and then a dance with Mr. Rochester. Then another rest." I rattled off, remembering the steps.

"I heard you invited Morton" Henry brought up, "Has he come yet?"

"No, at least," I hopped to the music, "Not when I was engaged in the first dance"

"Has Nelson arrived?" Henry asked at length.

"I don't know" I said, continuing the dance.

"Forgive me, Molly. I will not mention it" he replied, turning to topics which he knew would not distress me.

* * *

It was over too soon for my pleasure, for Henry was a good dancer, and when I danced, my awkwardness seemed to dissolve. The dancers applauded the orchestra, and while some picked new partners, others (like myself) went to sit down.

"Ah, Molly, you and Henry dance beautifully. You should dance more." Aunt Fanny said, Henry laughed, "I don't want to monopolize all her dances. For she would not want to dance with me all the time, Mrs. Polk."

"I do not think that Molly would mind. Molly, let Henry have another dance. I like to see you dance together" Aunt Fanny told me. I looked at Henry with a smile, and passed him my card once more. He wrote his name on the last waltz, and left, saying that he had engaged Louisa in the next dance.

"Do you not think that Molly dances wonderfully, Mr. Rochester?" Aunt Fanny asked him.

"I have always thought that Miss Allen had the figure of a dancer. And it seems as though she loves to dance" Mr. Rochester said, Aunt Fanny smiled at me. "But," he continued, "I shall not let her dance again if she does not rest. She has several fast dances which she is engaged to do with me, and I will not have her faint whilst doing so"

"And how would you do that, sir?" I asked.

"I would tell all the young men who asked for a dance while in your resting periods, that you had sprained your ankle while dancing with Mr. Quincy" he replied.

"You would blame poor Henry for allowing me to sprain my ankle? I would not allow it" I exclaimed.

"You would have no choice"

"I'm an independent thinker, sir. I do have a choice. Remember also, that is how you prefer me."

"I do, but you don't if I say you don't. I will tell them that you sprained your ankle in the waltz if it suited you better. I will take your clumsiness upon myself."

"And yet, I could stand" I countered.

"You wouldn't dare"

"I wouldn't?"

"No." he stated simply.

I sat down, I knew that he would do as he said. Even then, his face expressed his smugness. I refused to look, it would only agitate me further. And yet, I knew he was only joking. "You're right" I said, he looked at me, "I wouldn't dare" he chuckled, his smile truly genuine in that moment.

For a brief second, I wondered at him. He truly was a different sort of man than I was used to. Cold, and unfeeling. Then warm, and inviting. It would take quite a woman indeed to be able to withstand him. Yet, I seemed to be doing quite well.

Our waltz came sooner than expected, and with a stern "Molly" I was lifted from my chair, and began to dance with my employer. Who, I might add, despite his gruffness and outward appearance of hating all things jovial - was an exceptional dancer.


	22. Chapter 22

The polka was danced, Mr. Rochester was quite energetic. To my surprise, for I was unaware that he danced. I almost tripped as he dance, twice, for the polka was not my favorite of dances. But Mr. Rochester's strong grip, and steady arms kept me from falling. I was grateful to him, and was overjoyed that he found such pleasure in the dance.

It, of course, was followed by another rest. At Mr. Rochester's insistence, naturally.

It was ten-thirty when the Dantons arrived, Anne in tow.

"Ah, Mrs. Polk. We're so sorry we're late." Mrs. Danton apologized, Aunt Fanny shook her head, saying that it was alright. Louise came up to my side, taking a seat.

"Peter, Helen and Anne decided to go for a late ride. Then they went to dress. We waited for half-an-hour" she told me, her tone exasperated.

"It doesn't really matter" I replied calmly, "We were worried however, we didn't think you would come at all."

"I wasn't sure we would come either. Papa constantly paced, Anne I think is who took forever. But Papa was cordial, and simply said that he was glad that we would be leaving, and he was sure we wouldn't be missed." she looked around, touching my arm "Anne wastes no time" she said, motioning to my sister rising to dance with Giles Quincy.

"Poor Peter" Louise sighed.

"Why 'poor Peter'?" I asked.

"He's in love with her" Louise replied.

"I think not, he is simply enamored with her. It will not last long" I said.

"You're wrong" she stated.

"Why do you say that?"

"No reason, just don't hedge your bets yet. On either count." she said simply, accepting William's invitation to dance the gavotte.

I was confused, speaking to her in that moment was as speaking to Mr. Rochester. She left me with questions, but seeing as she was now engaged with my cousin, I could ask no more.

"Morton!" a cry from Richard came, announcing Mr. Morton's arrival. I sighed, questioning my judgment when I requested for him to be invited.

"Richard, its good to see you" he said.

"Its good to see you Tom. I wasn't so sure you would come" Richard replied.

"Ah, no, I couldn't refuse such an invitation. I thank you for inviting me" Morton said.

Richard laughed, "I didn't invite you, for no other reason than Molly would skin me alive!"

Morton looked confused, "Well then, who did?" he inquired.

I stood, "I did, Mr. Morton" He looked at me, bewildered.

"You?" he asked incredulous. "Mary Allen invite me? The girl who would skin her cousin alive if _he_ invited me?" he tsked, "You are quite the hypocrite. Are you sure it was Mary Allen who invited me? The girl who despises my existence since we met"

"The very same sir" I replied.

"Why ever would you stoop so low, Miss Allen?" he asked, I laughed.

"Are you saying you are below me sir? My, either you are humble; or you simply are faking humility, which is – in reality – pride" I retorted, Georgianna and Dr. Hart (who stood by) laughed.

"No, Ma'am, do not be deceived. I am neither humble, or proud. At least, not of that. I was simply stating the fact of: you considering yourself higher than I. Therefore, for you, it would be stooping" he declared.

My temper checked, for it desperately wished to lash out. I instead smiled, "Well, for a man with such elevated airs, it must be a relief for you to meet someone who has more elevated airs than you. It takes all the responsibility off of yourself, and onto me" he raised an eyebrow, his lips turning to a thin line.

"Then you must think very little of yourself, to boast, and puff yourself up to anything higher than you truly are. Every person who makes themselves higher than others, have concluded that everyone else thinks that they are higher than that person" he observed.

"Ah, but you see, I can agree with you for the most part. I do act as if I was a cut above the company. Not because of anyone, but because I do not like human beings overall. I might also add, you once called me a cut above the company. So if I think it, it is only because of you" I said.

"I did call you that. But you – if I recollect correctly – were rather wounding of my pride, in saying that I was above being pleased" he said.

"I believe, sir, when I made that comment, you were the only man in the room who refused to dance"

"Perhaps there was no one to dance with" he said.

"Being one of the handsomest men in the room, and seeing as there was more than one lady without a partner, I would say that you simply had no desire to take pleasure in the frivolity" I replied.

"Ah, I see, we are talking of the fact that you were without a partner that evening" he said.

"This isn't about me, I couldn't have cared less" I replied.

"Yes, but had I danced with you, I sincerely doubt that you would have this animosity toward me now" he stated.

"I do not wish for you to believe that I have any kind of animosity toward you. We are adults, and we are above dislike" I said, even though I hated him with a passion.

"Well then, Miss Allen" he said with a bow, "Perhaps I could engage you for a dance. I would hate to be disagreeable as I was when we met."

I looked at Richard, who was trying hard to contain his laughter, and handed (resignedly) Mr. Morton my card. He looked it over, "I see you have danced five already. May I have the Allemande?" he asked.

I nodded, "You may, sir. Otherwise, we may have to talk to each other longer than we would be able to bear" I replied.

He bowed once more, and with a "Thank you for allowing one of the 'handsomest men in the room' a dance. Until the Allemande, Miss Allen" he walked away.

I fumed, but my irritation was silenced when Giles burst out laughing, I turned to him. "What are you laughing at?" I asked.

"You-" he couldn't finish, as he was finding it hard to breathe. "You called him handsome" he pointed out, once he had finished doubling over.

I stopped, and thought over the conversation. He was right, I had.

* * *

Mr. Rochester danced only once more between our dances, and it was with Georgianna. They danced a mazurka, and I had the opportunity to observe his dancing. His motions were fluid, and well practiced. And although his looks were not anything to boast, his dancing would be enough to have every woman wish to dance with him. I also took the time to notice the other dancers, but only a few had the dancing ability of my employer.

"Observing the wild in their natural habitat?" a voice asked from beside me. I would know it anywhere; the smooth, soft tones mingled with that mischievous inclination. The charm and the rebellious nature coming together to form one tone. Seductive, and playful embodied in one person. Charles Nelson.

"Mary Allen, with nothing to say?" he teased.

"Perhaps you misunderstand me sir, they are neither wild, nor in their natural habitat" I said, turning to him, his emerald eyes bore into mine. For a moment, I felt the attraction that I had felt long ago. Yet, it was only 18 months since last laid eyes on him.

"Then what habitat are they used to?" he asked.

"Something less lively than this" I replied, referring to Thornfield. "A hall where there is little laughter, and much secrecy"

"And is he full of secrets?" he inquired.

"Oh, he is the most secretive of them all" I stated, barely listening as the mazurka ended, the waltz beginning.

"Would you care for a dance?" he offered his hand. I was torn. I wished to dance with him, but that was my heart. My head said otherwise. He was married, and I was an old love. It would be improper. Yet, he seemed to note my hesitation and smiled.

"Come, one dance will not ruin your reputation. Not between old friends" he reasoned, perhaps he was right. But my mind screamed at me that I could not dance with him, no matter the feeling.

"I – that is, I cannot –"

"I'm afraid she is already engaged for a dance, sorry ol' boy" Mr. Rochester said, coming to my rescue.

Charles withdrew his hand, "Then perhaps I might reserve an dance for later?" he asked.

Mr. Rochester shrugged, "I do believe that the next few dances are mine, Mr. Morton's and Mr. Quincy's. And those are the last three dances." he told Charles.

"There are four, I believe. You only brought up three" Charles replied.

"Yes, well, Molly is to rest in between" Mr. Rochester said, "We don't want her overtired."

"I see. No, no, we wouldn't want that" Charles replied, it seemed as if his mind was distant.

"Molly, come, it is the waltz" Mr. Rochester said, taking my hand.

"Goodnight Mr. Nelson" I said, following my master, and leaving my love where he stood. He remained looking at me throughout the dance. I wondered, was that regret that I saw in his eyes?

* * *

"So that was Charles Nelson. I must say, Molly, you have interesting taste. I see no beauty in him" Mr. Rochester told me as we danced.

"Perhaps that, 'beauty is in the eye of the beholder' really rings true. For I always found him handsome" I replied.

"How? His lips are too large, his eyes too small, his ears too small, his nose is tolerable I suppose. But other than that, he is completely out of proportion, I mean, look at his legs! Spindly and narrow" he argued, looking at me. I looked away, toward Charles, I could see how he would think that.

"Not everyone can claim beauty as the world sees beauty." I replied, turning my gaze once more to him.

"I do not claim beauty, dear Molly. The only thing I claim is 20,000 pounds"

"Weill Charles cannot even claim that. His fortune depends entirely on his bizarre uncle, who would not let him even marry whom he wished"

"Which was you, I suppose" Mr. Rochester countered.

"Yes, Charles could not marry me because his uncle would not allow it." I said, "How did we get to this subject?"

"I mentioned my fortune"

"Ah, yes, that was it. You called him homely. You do not know his character."

"What of his character is handsome then I ask?"

"When I knew him, he told me the truth. He was not interested in my inheritance, nor was he interested in anything other than my mind. He spoke to me as an equal, and met each of my spars with his own." I replied, "Much like you and I"

"I am not he" Mr. Rochester defended. "I would not have let any uncle come between us"

"I never said that you and he were alike, I said that the relationship between you and I, and he and I had their similarities." I responded.

"No, for I would have reacted differently. You never would have doubted my love." he said tenderly. "Even if it meant I could not marry you"

"I never said you were completely alike, sir. I said you had your similarities" the waltz ended, and we returned to our places near Aunt Fanny.


	23. Chapter 23

The ball did not end until 3:00 in the morning, much to the younger people's delight. It was the event of the season, and would not be matched again until summer. They mourned, as all young people do when something much longed for has come to an end. They then plan the next event with glee, and cannot wait until its approach. It must be that there is more enjoyment in planning an event, than being at the event itself. So much is talked of, and spent, making the event much more glorious than the event truly is.

The next morning, no one came down to breakfast until noon. Excepting only myself, for I had gone to bed by twelve, and therefore woke at eight o'clock. Now why would I go to bed so early? The Reader might ask, did I not enjoy the festivities? Nay, for I enjoyed them immensely. But so much had happened that evening, that I was tired. More than that, I suppose, I simply wished to escape. What? You might ask. I shall tell you.

* * *

When my dance with Mr. Morton had come, he ever so politely reminded me of my commitment. Bringing up my statement from earlier that 'we should have no animosity toward one another'. Reluctantly, I took his hand, and followed him onto the dance floor.

"So, the Allemande" he said, taking a bow.

"Yes, you chose it" I replied, curtsying.

A step to the left, to the right, hop. I recited in my brain, doing the motions.

"So, tell me" Morton began as we danced in a circle to the right. "What are your thoughts on Mr. Nelson coming?" he asked, a step to the left, to the right, hop. Dance to the left.

"Is it any business of yours?" I retorted, taking three steps forward.

"Just curious" he replied as we separated, dancing in a circle with the couple in front of us. We danced back together, hooking arms.

"Your curiosity causes for you to be rather an irritant, sir" I said.

"Indeed?" he asked, we stood still, waiting for the other couples to complete the steps which we just finished. "And I suppose that your secrecy makes you happy?" he asked.

"It has nothing to do with secrecy, it is a matter of privacy, sir" I stated, turning to the right, we make a few short steps, bowed to the other dancers, and continued in our rotation.

"Privacy? Your life is anything but private in this town" he replied, we repeated the last step and continued. "Everyone knows of your affair with Mr. Nelson. Everyone I suppose except Mrs. Nelson" he said, continued the dance.

"What Mrs. Nelson knows is none of my concern" I replied as we came back to our original places. We exchanged a bow and curtsy.

"I hear he asked you for a dance tonight" he said, repeating our original steps, this time toward each other.

"Your point being?" I snipped, taking his hand in a rotation.

"My point is –" he paused, "You're still in love with him"

I stopped completely, then resumed the dance, "What do you know?" I asked, as we repeated the steps once more. We were separated as we danced with the other couple, returning back into each other's company.

"I know women" he said.

"Oh, and I suppose that you have just assumed that I am like all other women? I have a mind of my own. Pray sir, would you allow for me to have my own opinions and counsels?" I asked, perturbed.

He chuckled, "It would depend on what you thought" he replied, "And if you agreed with me" he finished as we watched the couples dance.

"Ha," I exclaimed, as we began our rotation. "But I oftentimes do not agree with you"

"A sad piece of news, but I shall bear it in the best of gentlemanly tolerance"

"Gentlemanly tolerance?" I repeated, "You do not even warrant the title"

"Aye, but I do. But according to Mr. Webster's dictionary: a gentleman is a man who owns property, and has a considerable income of his own." he replied.

"Ah, yes, that is one definition. The other being: a man who combines gentle birth, and chivalrous attributes" I retorted.

"Are you saying that I am not chivalrous?" he inquired.

"I am saying that your qualities lack, sir. Your money is the only thing defining you" I said.

"That is ludicrous, and I think you know it. I have a wealth of character –"

"Yes, only when it suits you to have it. Otherwise, you are a shell, without any real passion. I have never seen any burst of feeling. Either anger, or delight" I replied, stepping forward with the other three ladies, and repeating the steps from earlier. This time, we formed a wheel pattern, and stepped to the right. Repeated the steps, then went to the left. We returned to the gentleman's sides.

"And I suppose that emotion is something that you require to see?" he asked, but his calm facade was fading.

"I would say," I paused, as we walked toward the couple opposite, splitting up, then rejoining hands. "That you have no respect for those with feelings. So much so, that you have cut yourself off from every feeling a man ought to have" we stood still.

"What do you know of men's feelings? The only feelings you have witnessed is from that fortune-hunter, Nelson" he retorted.

"What do you know of Mr. Nelson? For you have never had a decent conversation with the man" I replied. He 'hmphed' as we went back on rotation.

He did not reply for a few steps and then burst, "I know more of Nelson in a few short years, than you ever will in a lifetime" he exclaimed.

"Then that cannot be much" I replied, not realizing that I had just admitted to knowing Charles very little. Morton was quick to point it out, however.

"Aha, so you do know little of him" he said.

I could not come up with a reply, and instead tried to create one in my mind. "What business is it of yours?" I asked, cursing myself for saying such a immature phrase.

"So we return to the original subject: are you still in love with him?" he asked.

"No matter what I say, you will turn my words to say that I do" I muttered.

"So you do?"

"What does it matter?" I inquired.

"Perhaps because despite our bickering, we truly would be great friends" he replied softly.

"We would never be good friends, our minds are completely dissimilar" I retorted.

"Are they?" he sighed, "Only because you do not like me do you say such things."

"Precisely" I replied, the dance had ended and we exchanged another bow and curtsy.

"Perhaps if you gave me a chance, things might be forgivable?" he asked.

"Not if you were the last man on earth" I replied.

He shrugged. "Well, I tried. You have to congratulate me on effort, don't you think?" he asked, taking my hand and leading me back to Aunt Fanny.

"Here she is Mrs. Polk, safe and sound. Be at ease, we haven't killed each other"

"Yet" I added snarkily. He bowed, and said that 'He was going to Town in the morning, and therefore must excuse himself. He asked for my Aunt's forgiveness' bowed once more, and quietly left the room.

I sat down, keenly aware of the stares from my family. Henry came up not a minute later, and said that our dance was up, the last waltz of the evening. "Molly" he said sweetly, offering his hand for me to take. I did so, happy to leave the inquisitive glances of my family.

* * *

"What happened?" Henry asked as soon as we began.

"I think they're surprised I danced with Morton, and didn't maim him. Though trust me, I could have" I replied.

"Not in that dress you couldn't have. Besides, you're too much the lady to do so in front of everyone. You would simply marry him and poison his tea" Henry replied in jest.

"Can you believe the gall of the man? He was demanding to know if I was still in love with Charles!" I exclaimed.

"Everyone wants to know, you should know that. Most of them would not be able to be in the same room with an ex-lover, even less hold a conversation with them – which I might add, everyone saw." Henry replied.

"And I suppose that everyone cannot stay out of my affairs? He said the whole town is curious. Which is the precise reason I invited him-"

"You invited him?" Henry interrupted.

"Yes, I thought it would be a distraction from Charles. Though obviously, it wasn't" I replied.

"Distraction – you invited Morton as a distraction? Are you aware of what would have happened if you had come to irreconcilable blows?" he asked, "Your reputation would be in tatters" he answered.

"No, it would not. Besides, I would never allow for him to create that large of a scene" I replied.

"No, I suppose you wouldn't" he replied quietly. "To see you dance with him was a surprise, at least for me. Though personally, I would have given anything to hear you talking to him."

"Scolding is more like it. I said he wasn't a gentleman"

"Ah, hence the reason for his abrupt departure." he said with a chuckle.

"He should leave, I didn't truly want him here in the first place."

"Only because he wounded your pride and didn't dance with you when you first met" he reasoned.

I scoffed, "My pride?" I asked.

"Yes, you're a very proud woman. And if I recall correctly, you fancied him when you first met. That was before you and Charles were introduced"

"I never fancied him-"

"Oh, yes you did. But after that night, you swore to loathe him for all eternity" Henry said, my mind remembering the event he spoke of.

"Either way, the man is the most insufferable, disagreeable, impertinent, incorrigible, arrogant of men" I said, causing for Henry to laugh, pulling me closer.

"Remind me never to get on your bad side" he said, earning a chuckle from me.

"You could never anger me, Henry" I replied, just as the dance finished.

* * *

To my surprise, Anne avoided me for the evening. Dancing multiple times with Peter, and a few other men. Almost every dance, she danced. She was in constant company of Mrs. Danton, staying by her side. I watched Peter, and noticed that he seemed a little more bold when it came to her; touching her arm, talking to her in the corner. If it was what I feared, then Peter might propose by the last day of our holiday.

There were a few times that I saw Charles, smiling and happy. He would catch my eye, and stare for a few moments, before returning to his companions with a laugh. Pangs of jealousy ran through me as I watched Mrs. Nelson hold onto her husbands arm. She looked at me only once, reminding me that I was not in her place. The scene could have made me burst in uncontrollable sobs, but my dignity would not allow that.

I went to bed relatively soon afterwards, complaining of a headache. Mr. Rochester followed me to the stairs, inquiring of my health. I told him that I was tired, and wished to retire. He looked into the ballroom, then returned his gaze to mine, "Are you sure you are alright? You look a little more than tired. You look slightly put out" he said.

"I will be alright, thank you for your inquiry, sir" I replied, walking to my room, and going to bed. I truly wanted to cry, but deemed that Charles Nelson was not worth the effort. Resignedly, I simply went to sleep.


	24. Chapter 24

The day before our departure, Mr. Rochester and I went for a ride. His excuse being that 'He had never seen me ride, and therefore he was desirous to see it before we left'

"Indeed sir, are you in doubt that I am any good that you require to see it?" I asked as Mr. Rochester helped me mount Gaius.

"No, but as to how skilled you are is a completely different topic." he replied, swinging himself over his appointed steed, coincidentally named 'Eduardo'. Mr. Rochester had laughed, and credited George on his humor – for it was George's horse that had been recommended for his mount.

"Well, sir. We must go now, for I am looking at the sky and fear that we may not have very long." I replied, steering Gaius away from the paddock.

Mr. Rochester rode beside me, and seemed to be deep in thought. "So, no doubt you have observed your sister's behavior toward Mr. Danton" he stated abruptly.

I scoffed, "I have observed all her behavior toward every man she seems to come in contact with" I replied.

"You don't like it" he said.

"I would say, sir, that whether I like it or not is of no consequence. She is her own person, and her choices can only be made by her" I stated.

"But you wish she were more private in her feelings perhaps? You wish that she would hide them from the world? Be more reserved?" he asked.

"I believe, sir, that she is playing a very dangerous game. Toying with men's hearts is not a trifle, men are not as forgiving as some suspect" I replied.

"You are severe upon us" Mr. Rochester replied with a chuckle.

"Forgive me, sir, that was not my intent. I simply meant that there are certain men who, when a lady has given her attentions to them, they do not forgive her if she removes those attentions in an effort to form an attachment with another. Mind you, not all are alike." I explained.

"Granted. But pray, are not women the same? That when a man has formed an attachment with another, do they not take revenge?" he inquired.

"No, certain types, perhaps. I do not believe, sir, that men and women are that different. Indeed, for we all come from the same place. As the bible says, women come from man's ribs. However, we do have our differences, and I believe – in some cases, mind you – a woman's heart does heal faster than a man's. No, that is not it." I replied.

"So you are inconstant" he inquired.

"Nay, sir, I did not say it as I wished. I cannot explain. Women, for I know only from my own experience, have the ability to love again. Even if they love their first love, they can love once more. Perhaps even deeper, for their mistakes from their previous affair, has given them experience. 'The triumph of hope over experience'" I said quoting Dr. Johnson's dictionary definition of remarriage.

"When the time comes, and the question is asked 'What is your opinion of Peter Danton marrying your sister?' What will you say?" Mr. Rochester asked.

"Are you asking me that now?" I replied.

"No"

"Then I will answer it when the time comes" I replied.

"Very well, I'm asking it now" he replied quickly.

I snickered, "I don't think I'll answer it. Now, or then" he scoffed, looking off in the distance for a moment in frustration.

"Why not? For you surely have an opinion, you have opinions on every subject. Whether you admit it or not, you have thought of it often. And were you the man of the family, I don't think you would approve of the match" he observed.

"No!" I said without thought, "I would taken into consideration their feelings"

"But does you sister have feelings for him? For I do not think you doubt his affection"

"Obsession perhaps, for I have found that some men – like Peter Danton – are enamored by beauty. If he is foolish and marries her, even though I am loathe to say it, and you may find me cruel, he deserves her" I replied, looking at the clouds above. The would be threatening any moment, but for now they were contained.

"Do you think that your friend will be, as you put it, foolish?" Mr. Rochester inquired.

"He is expected to marry well. And she is expected, of our aunt and uncle in Nottingham, to marry well. I know not her reasons, for she seems to be happy with any man who will marry her. If you remember, the first day you came, she was rather enraptured with you" I said, reminiscing.

Mr. Rochester chuckled, "You were unhappy about that?"

"Do you wish for me to answer you? You may not like what I say" I replied cautiously.

"I'm all ears, and I swear that I will not fire you for honesty. I wish to have your opinion, lest I would not have asked for it." he replied.

"Are you sure sir?" I asked.

"Just say it, I am tired of wasting time. If it makes you feel better, I shall order you to do it" he snipped.

"As we are equals, no such command is required." I replied, "William and I spoke, at length, about the concept of my sister's growing attachment to you. And it was decided, by both of us before we conversed, that if you married her I would resign. Out of principle, I assure you"

"Resign? Why ever would you do that?" he demanded.

"I would deem it as a matter of morals, for I would not agree with the match. Not because of you – for I believe you would be an excellent match for any woman who understood you – but because my sister was so obviously being forward, too bold, and a ostentatious flirt. And therefore, seeing as you cannot stand hypocrisy, I would consider it my duty to leave your employ, lest I be a irritation to you" I replied.

Mr. Rochester stared at me, "You would leave my employ based upon a non-existent view of hypocrisy? And what if I would not allow that?" he asked, but continued before I could answer: "For I happen to like your quick wit, you are quite democratic – even though I find your many words to be rather annoying, even though what you say is quite interesting – and were you to leave I would not have anyone to talk to. Mrs. Fairfax is hardly company, and Adele would only speak nonsense"

"It would be a matter of scruples, sir. I would lose all respect for you if you encouraged an attachment betwixt yourself and my sister." I said simply. He was silent, his countenance fallen, a rather pathetically adorable look on his face. I never thought it possible for him to look so vulnerable, but at this moment I wondered if what I had said had injured him.

"Did you lose respect for me those few days when it seemed that I did form an attachment?" he inquired.

"I would say sir, I was wondering how to break the news gently that I intended to leave your employ. It would not have been very hard to leave your employ under the circumstances." I looked at him, that look more vulnerable than before, "But since you did not, I changed my mind. For I realized it would have effected me just as much as it seems to affect you." I finished.

Mr. Rochester smiled briefly, turning his head forward, the brim of his hat blocking his face. I chuckled, "Are you that unhappy about my decision?" I asked.

"I would expect much more loyalty from you! And to believe that I would accept such an arrangement, you don't know my character as much as I thought you did" he snapped.

"Forgive me, sir. I did not mean to-"

"You should have come to me, I would have answered your question. I would not have withheld from you my opinion of your sister. As a matter of fact, I began to wonder how on earth you were related, you are so different. However, to come to the conclusion that I would marry her! I thought you had much more discernment." he spouted, then stopped. He looked at me, "Why would it have affected you?"

"Do you think that I do not, despite our differences of opinion sometimes, enjoy our conversations and debates? I would not call anyone my friend, lest they meant what they said. And you, sir, have proved yourself to be a man of your word." I replied, "Forgive me, sir. I did not mean to offend you by my earlier statement. You asked for my opinion, and I warned you that it might upset you. I did not wish to upset you, but I would not lie." I said.

"Yet, you would have left my employ? Despite your opinion of me, you would have found yourself swayed if I had married your sister. I would never have married her, for her heart is stone, unfeeling and unmoving. She would not have engaged me in conversation as you do, nor would her heart be poured out in one speech. She is like a Siren, beautiful yet deadly. I have too many times been lured by such creatures, and all it afforded me was misery and heartbreak" he replied sadly, looking at me. "Can you now understand why I was rather perturbed by your statement?"

"I never wondered, for I understood why you were angry. You relate her to a Siren, I wish all men were of your opinion." I replied, "For then she would not be so encouraged."

"Would you ever leave me, Molly?" he asked.

"I would not leave you sir, not unless you had done something so horrid that I could no longer excuse you. Even then, I probably would forgive you" I replied.

"What if it was a situation, where society would throw me out on my ear? I would be a disgrace, and your reputation would be in absolute tatters if you stayed in my society? Would you stay by me then? Would your friendship last such a absolute disaster?" he asked.

"I would sir, as long as I knew why." I answered, wishing to put his mind at rest.

Mr. Rochester sighed in relief, "You say that now, but when the time comes, then you will be proven" he said.

"Just as you are a man of your word, sir, I am a woman of mine. I swear to you sir, I would not abandon you, the only way I would leave is by your order." I replied sternly.

He smiled softly, looking at the sky, "We should go back, it will rain soon" he said, leading the way back to Branhurst.

"As you wish, sir" I replied, following his lead.

"One day, Molly, you will know you are my equal, and you will not worry about my orders." he said with a laugh.

"I already know that, sir, for you have made it clear" I replied.

Mr. Rochester laughed once more, "Indeed I have, yet you persist. When shall you call me by my christian name?" he demanded.

"It is improper, sir." I said.

"Propriety. Bah, it will make corpses of us all" he said.

"Life, makes corpses of us all. For every moment brings us one step closer to death"

"That is time. Life brings us to the happiest, and most delightful existence. In which, time is inconsequential. What matters it a day, or a year? I have known you only six months, and yet I feel I have known you for years" he said.

"A day is as a thousand years, and a thousand years is as a day" I replied, remembering a sermon I once heard. "Time only exists in this life."

"Indeed it does. But here, at Branhurst, you are not Miss Allen, the governess; you are Molly Allen, the niece of Mrs. Polk. Therefore, call me Edward, will you not?"

"No, sir. Even as Molly Allen it is still improper. I shall call you Mr. Rochester, if you wish for me to be a little more informal, sir."

He shrugged, "Very well, I suppose it will do. Your stubbornness is overwhelming at times" he said resignedly.

"I know si—Mr. Rochester, but it is who I am." I said, for we had arrived at the stables.

"And I would not change it for the world" he replied, assisting me from my horse.

The conversation ending, we went inside.


	25. Chapter 25

The next morning was spent in preparation for Mr. Rochester and I to return to Thornfield. Whilst everyone was dressing and the like, I decided to go for a walk in the garden. I wandered to the stables, saying goodbye to Gaius, for I would once more miss my rides. I brushed him, and set him out in his paddock to roam for a while. "Somehow I would expect to see you out here" George said from behind me.

"And why would that be, my little brother?" I inquired.

"Because this used to be your favorite place, you would hide up there" he pointed up to the hayloft, "And read those stories you loved so much. I remember that no one could find you – except Henry. He always seemed to know where you were hiding." he said.

"Yes, Henry seems to know me well." I replied.

"I'll say. I remember he was livid when you and Nelson were to marry. He wouldn't talk to you for weeks!" he exclaimed.

"Well, he seems to have gotten over that. Hasn't he?"

George scoffed, "He hasn't forgiven Nelson, thats for sure. Its too bad he couldn't have said goodbye to you, he would have wanted to." he said, looking over to Gaius, I assented. "Still, I wish you could have stayed longer. But I suppose that Mr. Rochester is required again at Thornfield? He can't spare you" was his reasoning. I laughed.

"He spared me for three weeks Georgie dearest. We are to return at the time agreed, for it was settled before I came that I would only stay for three weeks. It was very generous of him" I said, George frowned.

"Generous or not, I wish you could stay longer."

"You cannot stay any longer than I. For you must go back to Ludlow. Besides, you ungrateful wretch, I have been here longer than Richard and William were allowed. And yes, I did call you an ungrateful wretch!" he laughed, thinking it amusing that I called him twice what I had.

"It doesn't mean that I will like it. When I am old enough, and take care of Livingston on my own, you will live with me. And when you get married, I will visit you continually. At least, until I am married" he declared, walking toward the house. I followed, laughing all the way.

In many ways, my two brothers had grown up to be alike. George often reminded me of Roger, with his matter-of-fact manner of speaking. Dear Roger, what would he have done? And what would he think of his 'Plumpkin' now? For she had grown. And was now something which was unfitting an Allen. Alas, I was supposed to marry by the age of twenty, and here I was nineteen without any hope of that state. Would he have been disappointed? I would never know, and therefore thought no more of it.

We continued in our frolicking, until we came upon a sight which disturbed me – Anne was walking in the garden. Now, now, Reader, I am not as cruel to be uneasy by the simple fact that my sister was being peaceable. Indeed, not! What had disturbed me was that she was not alone. In fact, she was in the company (not that I was surprised) of Peter Danton.

He spoke to her animatedly, a large grin on his face, waving his hands in earnest – obviously trying to explain something. She nodded, a sly smile on her own pretty face. Her look one of pure modesty as she listened to whatever it was he had to say. He looked at her tenderly, and took one of her hands. I watched as he knelt down, the only intention that he could possibly be exuding, was that of a proposal.

Quite improper in my opinion. He had only known her for a few weeks, that is hardly time enough to make a match. She seemed to be of my mind, for she shook her head, declining whatever he had to offer. He stood, his face indigent. She shook her head, I could not hear her words, but what I observed was a thought of, 'Not yet'.

Peter hung his head, nodding sadly. He looked up at her, and asked something. She smiled, and nodded, replied and placed her hand on his arm. Her face was soft, and innocent. She seemed to be explaining why it was she had refused him. He understood, and smiled again. He held out his arm, and together they walked back out of the garden, and into the house.

"Do you think he'll ask for permission?" George asked from beside me, for he watched with me.

"Of course he will, Peter isn't a cad. But I think he won't ask yet. She returns to Nottingham tomorrow, but if he asks, it will be soon. After all, he seems rather adamant." I said.

George nodded, "Indeed, do you think that she will accept him?" he asked.

"Based upon what I have seen," I said, "She will, or I am no judge of character"

"You could be no judge of character" George teased, I shook my head, and walked into the house.

* * *

After breakfast, I was accosted in the hallway by Anne, who said that she had something of great importance to say, and requested a private audience. I obliged, and we found ourselves in the deserted library. We sat down, and I eagerly awaited to find what she had to say – No. For I already knew, thanks to my observations of her behavior in the garden. However, I waited to hear her interpretation.

"Thank you, Molly, for giving me a moment of your time" she began.

"Of course, Anne, why ever wouldn't I? What is it?" I asked with polite indifference.

"I have a story – a riddle, if you will. It is the tale of a young girl" she said.

I was doubtful, she called me in a private conference for what precisely? "Go on" I bade.

"She is young – fifteen, to be exact – and she falls in love with a man who is six-and-twenty. Are you following?"

"Yes. Girl fifteen, falls in love with a man who is older" I summarize.

"Yes, precisely. Very well. He is, what she considers, the most desirable of men. He is a friend of her family, and therefore would be a most suitable companion. He is rich, handsome, and makes her most happy. He gives her attention, and showers her with affection. She feels as if, this is love, and no one else could make her as happy as he. He, is quite aware of her attachment to him, and he woos her to his delight. She reciprocates, and they begin to write each other letters. One day, he asks for a private audience, which she accepts, and they go for a walk. Her family is not concerned, for they do not suspect attachment, and being as he is like a son, they allow for her to be with him without a chaperon" she said, as if dictating. "Please just be patient" she pleaded, for I believe that my face must have exuded some kind of wariness.

"Continue" I said.

"On this day, he speaks very amorously to her, and informs her that he has fallen deeply in love with her. However, he is concerned that his family will not approve of the match, for she is not what you would call rich, or have many connections. However, he persuades her that he is not daunted, and asks for her hand in marriage. She is all to willing to assent, but there is also one more issue. The head of her household does not approve of his philandering ways, and has made it clear that: although he thinks of the man as a son, he would never allow him to become part of the family." she paused, waiting for my confirmation that I had heard all she had said so far. I nodded, and she continued –

"She concocts a plan, for she knows that the head of her household would never agree to the match. The plan is this, that they should be engaged, but secretly. And when she turns eighteen, that they would marry, for he would be independently wealthy by that time, and she would be free to marry whom she wished. He agrees, and for two years they are engaged in secret. During that time, they both flirt with others endlessly, so as not to arouse suspicion. He, being the kind of man he is, is quite carefree; and she, works hard to make it seem that they would never be attracted to each other. Albeit, quite badly, for she is quite the flirt as well. Perhaps that is what makes them suitable for each other" she said more to herself than me.

She stood, "However, at one point, she goes to visit another family member. He follows, and it is revealed that even that family knows of him, and doesn't like him. The girl is heartbroken, for she had hoped that at least they would approve. Well, only one person in the family doesn't like him, but it is that one person whose opinion she values above all. Then, being as she has tried for years to make it as if she is not in love with him, another man asks her to marry him. He is also rich, and his family likes her, but she could not bear to marry any other than her love" she said, "Now, what would you do, were you in this girl's position?" she inquired.

I didn't know how to respond, for this was the last thing which I believed would have come from her. This girl, she must have been Anne, for Anne's emotion was passionate. If that were the case, then perhaps her flirtatious nature was in consequence to this. Would I have done the same, were I in her position? Probably not, but I knew I was of a different material than she. It was obvious, it was her. For I could see her in this position. With whom? For she spoke of a man that knew us.

"Molly?" she asked meekly, for I had not yet given her an answer. I started, stammered, and vaguely wondered what I had done to earn myself this position. For the first time in a week, she looked like the Anne I first met. Demure, childish, a sense of innocence about her. "I – Were I in … her, position?" I repeated, she nodded fervently. If there was anything I learned from my conversations with Mr. Rochester, it was this: If you ask direct questions, you may, or may not, receive direct answers.

"You say, she is secretly engaged, to a man who is rejected by her family; meanwhile she is rejected by his?" I asked.

Anne nodded, "Most certainly" she affirmed.

"Does she plan on continuing this engagement?" I inquired.

"Yes, she still plans on marrying him, and he, her." she answered.

"These attentions she gives to other men, are they sincere?" I asked.

"No. The jealousy her lover feels _is,_ however" she replied.

"When does she plan on marrying her lover?" I questioned.

\

"Soon, as soon as they can. They are planning on eloping, if there can be no other arrangement" she explained.

"And if they marry, where do they plan on living?" I asked.

"I don't know, wherever he plans, I would guess."

"And you ask me, what would I do in her place?" she nodded in assent. "I would, were it I, marry the man I loved." she smiled broadly, "But," I continued, "I wouldn't encourage this other relationship. I would most likely apologize for encouraging affection, saying it was unconsciously done. Then I would inform my family, that I was engaged." I advised.

"Even though they don't like him?" she queried.

"You only said one member didn't like him. I is absolutely necessary that the family knows, otherwise they may view your heroine in a very bad light" I replied.

"What if they do not approve?" she asked.

"If your love is deep, and sincere. They will have no choice but to approve, for not even fate could be your adversary" I replied.

She stood, face vibrantly happy. "Thank you Molly, you have solved my riddle. I shall leave you now, for I believe that you have much to do, and you wish to say goodbye to all. I have to pack, I'll probably go for a walk. Yes, goodbye!" she said, walking out of the room.

I sat alone, my thoughts a swirling vortex of chaos. Who was he? This mysterious man whom she was hopelessly in love with, yet could not love? She said that one member of our family didn't like him, but who? I could list a dozen people that the family only tolerated. I had to agree with Louise on this point. Poor Peter indeed. Not because he loved her, but because her heart was already taken.

* * *

The goodbyes to Branhurst were heartfelt, and we were all unhappy to say 'farewell'. Georgianna smiled, saying that it was somehow easier to say goodbye when you knew the person was coming back.

Henrietta said that she was very happy to have seen me, and was sorrowful to see me leave. "You had better be at my wedding, or I'll never forgive you!" she said, causing for us all to laugh.

George was rather cheerful, about what, I didn't know. He said he'd see me soon, and bade me a good and pleasant journey. He said goodbye to Mr. Rochester in a friendly way, apparently my master had taken my brother under-wing.

Aunt Fanny was the hardest to say goodbye to, for she was like my mother, and would always be tearful when I left. "Take care, Molly, and don't go walking in the rain. You know that when you get sick, you're sick a month after" she warned, I smiled and kissed her cheek, informing her that I had no intention of doing such a thing.

Anne was mysteriously absent, but I had already concluded that she had most likely gone to her lover, whomever it was. I silently bade them farewell, and wished them all the good fortune I could.

Mr. Rochester assisted me into the carriage, and we were off, the goodbyes fading into the background of what was behind us. "Well, Molly, shall you be happy to return to dreary old Thornfield now that you have tasted the delights of your own home. I suppose you will inform me that I should be seeking a new governess, for you cannot bear being away from your home for much longer" he said.

I chuckled to myself. "No sir, for Thornfield is as much of a home as Branhurst is. I have said before, and shall repeat again: it isn't the building that makes it home, but the people who reside there." I said, he laughed, and said no more. I turned my gaze to the ever fleeting scenery that surrounded Branhurst.


	26. Chapter 26

The journey was pleasant enough, for being continually in Mr. Rochester's company proved to be rather interesting. He talked a great deal, and required for me to join him. Even though I had nothing of true importance to say.

"Talk!" would be his command.

"About what?" I would reply.

"Anything" he would say,

"Well, I have only trivial things which I am pondering on. They would be of no interest to you."

"Speak them aloud! My thoughts are far too depressing to dwell on for long. Come!" he said. I would smile, and tell him of my latest contemplations. He would grumble, commenting on how he wished I had never returned to Branhurst: "For it has made you a silly woman, your thoughts are only on your books"

The second day of the journey was very happily spent, for we were closer to Thornfield by at least twenty miles. We would reach the Hall by the end of the evening, we were sure – for Millcote was only a few hours away now.

Mr. Rochester had asked me to read to him, for my mind was engrossed in the novel which I had acquired in Northampton a few days before. "If it is interesting to you, then perhaps I might find interest." he said, for I was reading Acton Bell's 'Tenant of Wildfell Hall'. I began at the beginning, and by the time it reached too dark to read, we had reached the point of the diary of Helen Grahame.

"Well, now that its too dark to read, perhaps we should discuss something." Mr. Rochester said.

"What would you like to discuss, sir?" I asked.

"I don't know." he said. "You know my history, about Celine, and various other things. Are you not curious about anything? Perhaps you believe that you cannot know any more about me? I'm sure that there are a great deal of things that you don't know."

"I'm sure sir, I never thought of anything to question you about" I said, but I knew I lied, for there were a great many things which I was curious about. Jane Eyre, for example.

"Nothing at all?" Mr. Rochester asked, I shook my head. He was silent for a few moments longer, "I'm sure you have things to ask, you simply do not want to ask about them."

"I'm sure that if I had something to ask, I would. That is, if I saw it as worth asking" I replied.

"So you do have things to ask, but you are worried. Come on, out with it" he encouraged.

"There is nothing at the moment, sir. But if something came up, I would be sure to ask" I said.

"Would you indeed? So nothing has been bothering you? I can't believe that. Everyone has something to ask, but you don't think I'll be happy with your question" he surmised.

I smiled, and ducked my head, "Perhaps you're right, sir" I replied, "But surely you understand that there are certain things which I am unsure of."

"Take a shot in the dark, for you cannot be curious all your life. You must go out on a limb. Be daring. Ask, you obviously do know of something" he said.

I was at a crisis, my head and heart conflicting. Dare I ask? For what would his reaction be? Would he scorn, or rant? Or would he simply laugh, and tell me all? If I didn't ask, it would gnaw at me until I did. As it was, I was constantly wondering. What was behind that door which I didn't open? He said that one day he would tell me all, but could I wait for his leisure? I was unsure. He knew there was something on my mind, for it seemed all my secrets laid bare to him. As if he knew that I was in conflict with my nature for curiosity battling my mind which whispered 'Just wait, for all that begins well ends well'

"Molly?" he returned me to the carriage, for my thoughts had wandered.

"There was one thing, sir, which I have been wondering on. I was unsure, though, of just how to ask. I know you once told me that you would answer my question when the time came, but I'm afraid that I'm unsure of when that will be. It has been plaguing me, to a point of dreams which haunt. My curiosity will not let me alone, and insists on being satisfied. I know that 'he that pryeth into every cloud may be struck with a thunderbolt'. But I still wonder. And perhaps needlessly, but my imagination runs a little wild, sir" I explained.

"And what, precisely, has peaked your curiosity, Miss Allen?" he asked.

It was now or never. Yet, I still felt apprehension at asking, as if I was opening Pandora's Box of old. One little crack, and all of Hades would be unleashed. He sat so pensive, waiting for my answer, his question causing for me to question my questioning. All truth would come to the light in time, and I vaguely questioned my faith. I was, after all, pushing fate to her limit. And taking her into my own hands to toy with. Alas, despite my second thoughts, I still determined to ask, 'Jane Eyre'. However, before I could even get out the first syllable, I was interrupted by the driver informing us that we had arrived at Millcote.

Mr. Rochester paused for a moment, as if contemplating whether to exit the carriage or continue on his pursuit of my state of curiosity. It seemed, however, that he remembered that we had come by coach. That is, he had practically rented the carriage entirely for himself – meaning that we were the only ones inside. He opened the door and exited the carriage, looking around, for it was beginning to snow. He raised a hand, and helped me out. It seemed an age since I'd been here, but it had only been three weeks.

"Take our baggage inside, we will wait for our carriage here" Mr. Rochester said, leading me into the warm and cozy inn, which I remembered from the first time I had been here.

* * *

We sat down, and soon I had tea, and he had a sherry. I wondered briefly if he would continue in his inquiry. I looked at the mantlepiece, the old clock showed that it was nine o'clock. Indeed, for I was beginning to tire.

"What is it you were about to speak of?" he asked, he had not forgotten.

"I'm not sure I should say sir -"

"Just say it Molly, I'm in no mind to be curious. What is on your mind?" he said curtly, he was tired of waiting.

"Jane Eyre, sir" I said simply, a great relief washing over me. I had been worried for so long, yet, now that I said it, it seemed so minute. However, a great worry began to gnaw its way to my heart, for he was silent.

"Jane Eyre" he repeated, the name ghosting over his lips, "And why do you inquire about her?" he asked.

"My curiosity has been there since I first arrived at Thornfield. Adele continually compared me to her, my sketches, my looks, my behavior, my manner of dress, even the way I coiffed my hair. Forgive me, sir. For I have no right to pry into your personal affairs" I apologized.

"That has never stopped you before." he commented, I chuckled, but said nothing. "Jane Eyre" he said again, taking a sip of sherry. "What do you wish to know about her?" he asked.

"Why did she leave your employ?" I questioned.

"You really get down to the point don't you. No beating about the bush – I like that. But I will tell you that I cannot tell you everything you wish to know. I shall tell you this, Miss Eyre and I came to a disagreement. I wanted her to stay, but she had decided to go. My convincing would not change her, no matter my argument. She had decided to leave, and she leftwithout my knowledge, on foot as I know. Where? I don't know." he said, "Is this what you wanted to know?"

"I already knew that you had a disagreement, Mrs. Fairfax explained that." I said, my tea was getting colder.

"Then why did you ask something you already had the answer to?"

"I simply wished to hear it from your own lips. I simply wished to know why she left. Disagreement is such a vague term – why?"

"There are things which are not your concern. I will tell you this much, Jane Eyre is one of the kindest women to have ever lived. She took pity on a poor creature like Adele, when she should have shunned her. Her life was sad, much like mine, and despite that which she was forced to endure, she was compassionate. She was your age when she came to me. She, eh, bewitched my horse. You look at me oddly now, let me explain. In Hay Lane, is where I first saw her, looking as unearthly as possible. When my horse saw her, he slipped on the ice and fell, I never told her that I knew that though. I teased her and said that she had bewitched my horse. She was with us for about a year, I would say." he said.

"If that is the case sir, and if she is what you say (which I'm sure she is) then why would she leave? Surely being the compassionate person that you say she is, she would stay no matter what." I was bewildered, he spoke of her with tenderness, as if their relationship was far above and beyond that of a employer and his employed. I was sure that it was a stronger bond that between him and I. For I sincerely doubted that he would speak of me with such tenderness if I left him. No, he'd probably just say he expected it and say no more.

"She could not stay any longer. Mental reservations, or something along those lines. She left because of my wife – that is, I was going to be married, you see, but it did not happen." he said, but it seemed to me as if he was saying something other than his original words. As if there were two meanings, but I could not put my finger on it. It was like when he spoke with Mr. Hamilton, teasing how perhaps he had a wife in the attic. I was beginning to wonder. Yet, I doubted myself, for he had no wife.

"Does that explain all to you, Molly?" he asked, finishing his sherry.

"Yes, sir. It explains much, thank you" I replied, just as the door to the inn opened, it was John, who had just arrived.

"Ah, here's John. Come Molly, drink your tea quickly. We shall have you in bed by eleven o'clock I daresay." Mr. Rochester said, standing and helping me on with my cloak. We entered his carriage, and were off, and on our way to Thornfield. But, for the first time I wondered if there was something amiss. I felt like something was wrong. Premonitions they're called, at least by some. Perhaps there was something which was going on at Thornfield Hall, something more sinister than I truly wished to admit.

I did not have long to ponder, for my eyes (like the first time I had come) were drooping. "Go to sleep Molly, I will wake you when we arrive" Mr. Rochester said gently, I nodded, "Thank you, sir" was mumbled quietly as I slipped off. I almost laughed as I thought of how he always left me with more questions than I began with. But, I surmised, it would have to wait.


	27. Chapter 27

The next morning, while I dressed, I was disturbed by Adele's happy chattering in French: "Mademoiselle Marie, you are back! Je me demandais si vous pourriez jamais revenir! Vous m'avez manqué terriblement!" she exclaimed.

I laughed, "Le merci Adele, je vous ai manqués aussi. Mais peut-être je devrai être en mesure de vous prendre à Branhurst la prochaine fois. Adele, pourquoi avez-vous cru que je ne reviendrais pas?"

Adele hung her head, "Because Mademoiselle Jane did not return after she left, I worried you had gone too. But Monsieur Rochester went along, did you like to see him there?" she asked.

"Adele, did you know of Mr. Rochester's plan to come to Branhurst?" I inquired suspiciously.

"Oui, Mademoiselle Marie, I knew before you left. Monsieur Rochester told Madame Fairfax, and I overheard." she said nonchalantly, almost guiltily, as if she had known a secret which she thought I would chide her for.

I chuckled, and replied to her in her own language: "I don't need to tell you that I am not happy with your tendency to eavesdrop. But I will credit you on your acting, for I never would have guessed the plot with your behavior. Congratulations, but do not attempt it again" I warned.

"Non, I won't, I promise. If I hear something, I will immediately walk away" she said vaguely.

"Walk away before you hear?" I inquired, she looked at me and smiled without answering. I shook my head, unable to abate the smile on my own face, for her behavior was amusing. There was a knock on the door, to which I answered. Sophie stood on the other side, "Bon matin, Sophie, qu'est-ce que c'est?" I inquired.

"Votre pardon, Mlle Allen, mais M. Rochester est impatiente de savoir quand vous serez se joindre à lui pour le petit déjeuner?" she asked.

I looked at Adele, and at the clock. It was 9:00, I wish I had known that it was getting late. But I had assumed that he had already breakfasted. Sophie still stood at the door, therefore I replied to her anxiety: "Nous allons être directement vers le bas. Merci." she smiled, curtsied, and walked back downstairs.

"Come Adele, we should go down now." I said, she smiled, and handed me my locket.

"Shall we do lessons today?" she asked.

"Yes, we shall continue as before. Have you been practicing on your mathematics?" I inquired, taking her hand and leading her out.

* * *

When we reached the dining room, Mr. Rochester stood by the window, checking his watch. "Good morning, sir" I said carefully, for he seemed out of sorts.

"Good morning? Yes, I suppose it is a good morning for you. I hope you do not make it a habit of coming out this late, I've been waiting above an hour for your appearance, and had to send Sophie to get you!" he exclaimed.

"Forgive me, sir, I was unaware of your waiting. I assure you, if I had known, I would have made it a point to dress quicker." I replied.

"Well I sent Adele first, but she obviously didn't do a good job, for I sent her half-an-hour ago." he said, sitting down at his place at the head of the table. "Adele, why is it you didn't tell Mademoiselle that I was waiting for her?" he asked the child.

Adele looked nervously between Mr. Rochester and myself; and although I was not very pleased with his tone, I understood the need for it.

"I suppose it was the excitement that caused for Adele to neglect her duties." I said, taking my own seat.

Mr. Rochester looked at Adele "That is no excuse! She was given a message, she should have delivered it"

"Yes, sir, and I do not excuse her. (looking at Adele) She should have given me the message as the first moment possible, (I returned my gaze to Mr. Rochester,) but the fault is still mine. For I am the adult here. And seeing as she is a child, who does not have the maturity to discern what is the most important thing to say, then I would have to come to her defense, sir." Mr. Rochester stopped mid-bite, and stared at me intensely.

"I admire your defense, for it is a logical one. Were you a man, you would be a good lawyer. Thank God, Miss Allen, you are a governess – for I cannot stand lawyers." he looked at Adele and sighed, "In the future, Adele, when you are given a message, deliver it. Am I quite understood?"

She nodded feverishly, "Merci, Monsieur Rochester, merci"

"Don't 'merci' me, it is Mademoiselle you should be thanking. But do not think it doesn't have its consequences. There was a gift I had for you, but you shall not receive it now. Is that suitable to you Miss Allen? Will you chide me for that?" he asked me.

I sighed "I would not chide you, sir." I replied quietly. Mr. Rochester nodded, "You shall receive it when I deem it time." he told the child, she nodded in understanding, her countenance fallen. She had been corrected, and took her chastisement with as much grace as a ten year old girl can. I smiled and began to eat.

Mr. Rochester was surprisingly quiet during the meal, indeed, for I had not known for him to be this silent in all my time of knowing him. Upon scrutinizing his features, I found that his brow was furrowed in concern. 'About what?' thought I, for everything seemed in order. Unless business was what worried him, for men worry about different things than women. That is their lot. But, I didn't question him, for it was not my place. If he had something on his mind, he would either speak it aloud, or deal with it himself – accordingly.

Soon, breakfast was over, without a word spoken of depth. 'Very odd' was my thought, but I did not speak it, I simply mulled over the observation and decided to take Adele to the library for her lessons. "By your leave, sir, I shall take Adele" I announced.

His eyes, which had been lowered in concentration upon his place, snapped up to meet mine. "What?" he spluttered, "Are you done already?"

"Yes, sir, and it is getting late. It is near 10 o'clock." I said, glancing in the direction of the timepiece.

Mr. Rochester muttered something about, "One of these days I'll send her to school. . ." before placing his napkin beside his plate. "Very well." he stated, "I shall see you for dinner, I'm going for a ride this morning." I curtsied, and left the room.

* * *

"Is there something wrong, Mademoiselle?" Adele inquired when we entered the library. She was more observant that I had thought.

"I don't know. But I'm sure that if something were truly, very bad, Mr. Rochester would inform us. It may be matters of business, but it is none of our concern unless he deems it necessary for us to know." I replied, "Now, go get the atlas" I ordered, sending her to the far end of the library.

There was something the matter, but I didn't know what. He was most certainly out of sorts, and that bothered me. For Mr. Rochester was never 'out of sorts', and being as I had now spend more time than I am sure most governesses spend with their masters – his worrisome behavior worried me. My conversations with him had established him as a very unshakable man, who in any danger or situation would take matters calmly and assuredly, careful not to display any kind of irrational thought. Indeed, for Mr. Rochester was a very rational man, possibly the most rational I had ever met with. So why was he so altered?

I was beginning to consider him as a friend, and therefore had a friendly interest in his well-being. Why was it so? Had I angered him in some way? Then I began to consider the trip the day before, there was only one thing which might have agitated him, and that was my question about Jane Eyre. But would that be cause for him to act in this manner?

I knew not, and either way, when Adele returned, I placed my thoughts in a basket and we began our lessons.

* * *

That evening, after dinner, I took my place beside the fire and across from Mr. Rochester. His mood was once more sullen, and contemplative. Adele's childlike worry was endearing, for I had learned during my time at Thornfield, that she cared for him like a daughter for a father. Indeed, for he was the only father she knew. And therefore, it was understandable that she should worry.

Mrs. Fairfax sat nearby, as she often did, with her sewing, unsure of what to say or do. Ten minutes passed in this manner, tension just waiting to be broken by a wrong word. My only conflict was that I didn't know what to say, for it seemed that Mr. Rochester was consumed in his mind. I looked about the room, and found that my sketchbook was nearby. 'Perhaps,' thought I, 'I can sketch a bit. For it is a quiet occupation, which will allow conversation when conversation would happen' and I stood.

"Where are you going?" Mr. Rochester uttered, speaking his first words that evening.

"I am fetching my sketches, perhaps I can do a little art for my pencils have been rather neglected in the last few weeks" I replied.

"By firelight? Is that not bad for your eyes?" he inquired.

"Perhaps, would you rather I did not?"

He thought for a moment, "Fetch your sketchbook, but return immediately." he ordered, I nodded and did as he bade, returning to my seat within a few minutes. He returned his gaze to the fire, his silence most disturbing.

Then abruptly he announced: "I'm going to London in the morning, I have some business to settle there"

I was quiet, unsure of why he was speaking so. He had never announced when he was leaving before, "But sir," I began, "That can't be very good for your health. You only just returned from Northampton, would it not be better to wait a week perhaps before going up to town?" I asked.

"Perhaps, but I'm afraid that pressing business requires that I leave tomorrow" he replied.

I nodded, "How long will you be away for?" I inquired.

"A fortnight, or longer depending on how long it takes for my business to be taken care of." he said as the clock chimed ten. "Adele should be in bed Miss Allen" he declared. I stood, taking Adele's hand before turning to him once more.

"You will most likely be gone when I wake, therefore I pray you have a pleasant journey, sir. May God keep you" I said.

He looked up at me with a slight smile on his face "Goodnight Miss Allen" he said.

"Goodnight, sir" I replied, taking Adele upstairs and going to bed.

* * *

When I woke the next morning, Mr. Rochester had indeed gone early. With his departure I noticed that the liveliness went with him. The house was gloomier than I was used to, for it had been quite some time since he left last time. I was surprised, for one would think that Mr. Rochester was not very lively in nature. Not so, Reader! For his character was one of joviality despite his sarcasm.

He was missed by the evening, and for the first time I understood why he took great pleasure in talking to me. Mrs. Fairfax was busy with the small-talk of Millcote, and was quite interested in the news around the village. Adele chattered, but I had taught her to enjoy literature, and she was happily contented in a book.

I settled down at the fireplace with my sketchbook, a particular portrait which I had drawn six months prior in front of me. It was of Mr. Rochester, but I had noticed that I had made the lines too harsh, and the frown too deep. I now could sketch him as I saw him: a kind-hearted man, who had been beaten by circumstance which made him cynical and hard. All the situations which he had endured I would never know, but this I first impression of his ugliness was off, for I now considered him as quite handsome. Maybe not of features, but of character. Indeed, for he was the prince among men.

I smiled as I thought how many assumptions I had made since coming to Thornfield – I realized that I had been proven wrong.

* * *

*"I was wondering if you would ever come back! I missed you terribly!"

*Thank You Adele, I missed you too. But perhaps I will be to be able to take you to Branhurst next time. Adele, why did you think I would not return?


	28. Chapter 28

Over the next few weeks, I had once more fallen into a schedule at Thornfield. I would wake, descend the grand stairs to the dining room for breakfast (which would consist of minimal conversation with Mrs. Fairfax, for I was not in a talkative state of mind.), begin my lessons with Adele, break for luncheon, resume the lessons until either two or four o'clock. After which time, I was left to my own devices for the rest of the day until dinnertime.

'An idle mind, like fallow ground, is the soil for every weed to grow in' – they say. And at that time, I was not lacking in idleness. There is only so much one can do to abate perturbation – but after such every interesting thing loses its luster, the mind is left to its own thoughts. The great house, which once upon a time found quite mysterious, was beginning to make me uneasy.

Allow me to explain, Reader, why I say so by describing one day – about a fortnight after Mr. Rochester had left.

* * *

It was only about two weeks after Mr. Rochester's departure, and Adele and I were reading a book of folk tales. Adele quickly stood and tole me of a ghost in Thornfield, who wanders the halls some nights. I asked her if she had seen this 'ghost', which she shook her head.

"No, Mademoiselle," she said, "but Sophie has. She was the one who told me about it. She said that when 'she' laughs, that it is frightening. She also said that it likes to set fires. Sophie says that she sometimes wanders the hall outside Mademoiselle Eyre's room, trying to enter the door. She says that this ghost did not like Mademoiselle Jane, and that she is the reason that Mademoiselle Jane left. That Mademoiselle Jane was afraid of it. But I do not believe that, Mademoiselle Jane wasn't afraid of anything."

I smiled, "What nonsense, Sophie is filling your head with stories which I don't like. How ridiculous." I muttered, "A ghost at Thornfield, I don't believe that."

"Do not say that! Sophie says that ghosts will always be attracted to those who don't believe in them" she said, her fear was indeed genuine.

"Tell me, Adele, does Mr. Rochester know of this. . .ghost?" I inquired, she nodded with vigor.

"Oui, he knows. But he does not refute it, he just changes the subject. Mrs. Fairfax does not wish to speak of it either. I don't know why" she said, her head tilted in confusion.

I nodded, "Perhaps there's nothing to it then" I said, "For Sophie's imagination tends to run wild"

"It is true! Do you not believe it either?" she asked.

"No. I don't" I declared.

* * *

Later that day, after Adele's lessons, I went to my room to fetch my shawl – for it was early January, and quite frigid. Upon my stepping foot on the landing, I felt that something was not quite right. I could not see with my eyes anything out of the ordinary, but my heart told me otherwise. I shook my head, those stories of Adele's were obviously very influencing.

I approached my room, and halted. The door was ajar, be it ever so slightly, and I was sure that that morning I had shut it firmly. Indeed, I remembered saying something about shutting my door to Mrs. Fairfax at breakfast. "For then the heat stays in the room, and does not help to heat the rest of the house – which is nigh on impossible." I had said.

I opened my door, and entered the room. Perhaps John's wife had come in here to clean, that would not be surprising, but she was usually very careful about putting things as she found them. She was particular that way. I sighed, finding my shawl and throwing it over my shoulders. My heart was still beating wildly, telling me of danger that I knew not of. I left my room once more, careful to shut the door soundly before once again leaving the landing.

And were that all I saw that day, Reader, I would not even tell it to you. But afterwards, Mrs. Fairfax met me on the floor below, pacing and wringing her hands. "Were you just in your room?" she asked anxiously.

"Why, yes, I went to fetch my shawl. Tell me, Mrs. Fairfax, did John's wife clean my room this morning?" I inquired.

She looked about her, confused, "No, I don't think so, not today – tomorrow I think she does. Why do you ask?"

I looked up the stairs, "No reason. I must have forgotten myself today. The door to my room was ajar and I supposed that perhaps she had been in there. No matter, I must have done it myself. (I laughed) And to think, I told you this morning that I had shut it to keep the heat in. How silly of me." I said, for although I knew it wasn't true, I wanted to make sure she knew nothing of the matter.

Mrs. Fairfax paled, opening her mouth as if to speak, yet not saying a word. "Yes, you must have. Or perhaps John's wife did go in today – what day is it?"

"Thursday" I answered.

"Ah, yes, I recall now. She said she was going to clean your floor today, and do the library tomorrow" Mrs. Fairfax resolved.

"But Mrs. Fairfax, she went into the library today. Adele and I saw her, and were careful to stay out from under her feet. Perhaps she did both" I suggested. Mrs. Fairfax quickly agreed, saying that 'She would inquire, but she was sure that that was the case'

"Were you going out?" she inquired. I replied that I had no I intention of leaving the house. "Well, I was hoping that perhaps you were. But never mind"

"Was there something you wanted me to do?" I asked.

"No – well that is – could you perhaps go to Millcote? I have some letters I need sent, and perhaps you could go there. I know you like walking, and the weather is relatively fine, and seeing as you have obviously ended Adele's lessons early. Indeed, for it is only" she stopped to look at the mantlepiece, "Three o'clock. You still have an hour of daylight left."

I truly had no intention of going out, but she seemed in earnest to get me out of the house. I wondered vaguely why that was when she shoved several letters in my hand. "You will have enough time to get there and back right at dinner." she said, and with such a tone that I could not refuse her.

"Very well, I'll just get my cloak and bonnet" I replied, once again heading upstairs.

"No, dear, no need. I'll get it for you, you might want to check on Adele, she was making some noise on the pianoforte. There were several odd-sounding notes." she stuttered, all the while ascending the stairs. Indeed, Adele was practicing, but she did not sound badly.

As I said, Reader, I would not have mentioned this day except for the odd occurrences. My door was ajar, simple enough, I could have left it open by accident. But Mrs. Fairfax proved the situation to be odd, she seemed to want me gone. Her reasoning? I knew not then, but I knew that there was something about my door that caused her to be so adamant. Surely, for I had barely entered the library and began helping Adele with her scales that Mrs. Fairfax returned with my cloak and bonnet.

"Here you are dear, don't want you getting cold. I brought your gloves too, don't want you freezing your fingers. I would never be forgiven for it!" she said, holding out my cloak to place on my shoulders, "Now, hurry out, and you should be back before nightfall." she said, gently nudging me out the door. I went out in confusion, and not for the last time either, for this was only the first of many instances which struck me as odd.

* * *

January passed without incident, and February followed the same. March came, and still Mr. Rochester had not returned. Mrs. Fairfax informed me one day, when she was inspecting the various rooms of the house, that he oftentimes had left for six months to a year without any word.

"It is only how he acts, depending on how long you will be here, you will become quite used to it. This house gets rather lonely, I'm glad to have you here, child, for Adele is not proper company" she said. I smiled, and replied that I was glad to be there, for I could understand the loneliness.

"I'm sure it doesn't help that Sophie is spreading stories about a ghost at Thornfield" I commented.

Mrs. Fairfax blanched, "A ghost?" she repeated.

"Yes, she has told Adele that there is a ghost haunting the hallways, who laughs and likes to set fires. Of course Adele believes it, she is far too gullible. I'm just glad it hasn't disrupted my sleep" I replied.

"Do you sleep with your door locked?" Mrs. Fairfax inquired abruptly.

I shook my head, "Not usually, I don't think I've ever slept with my door locked. Why do you ask?"

"You should, so as no one can enter whilst you sleep" she replied, opening the door to one of the guest rooms.

"Who would enter while I slept?" I asked, and I am ashamed to admit, I had a mock in my voice.

She looked at me queerly, a mixture of worry and fear on her features. "No one, of course. But it is a precaution. Would you not prefer that someone knocked rather than just walk right in?" she said.

"Well, yes. But everyone knocks. It is expected." I replied, for it seemed most obvious to me.

"You should still lock your door. You never know what might happen" she muttered.

I stared at her, she was talking mysteriously again. "Mrs. Fairfax, what are you trying to tell me?" I asked.

She avoided my gaze, busying herself with fluffing some pillows on the bed. "Nothing, I am simply suggesting you locking your door. The rest of us do" she said, moving about the room. "It is just a suggestion" she stated, leaving the room and expecting me to follow her. I also exited the room, entered the hallway.

"You ought to fetch Adele, dinner is probably going to be ready in about half-an-hour." she reminded me vaguely of Mr. Rochester giving orders. Perhaps being so long in his household, she was beginning to take on some of his attributes. He spoke with the same veil of truth, speaking about a subject without answering the question directly.

I nodded, and descended the stairs to fetch Adele, my mind curious the entire way.

* * *

That evening, when I prepared for bed, my doubts gnawed ever heartily at me. My door was usually left unlocked during my slumber, for I never knew when I was needed, and never wanted to fiddle with a lock. But that night, I was worried, what if there was something that Mrs. Fairfax knew that I did not? What if it had something to do with my door being ajar that time that day a few months ago?

I padded over to the door, hesitantly taking the lock, I slid it into place. I knew not why, but I felt my fear begin to ebb. Fear I never knew actually existed within me. I then went to bed, unable to sleep because of my dreams. The dreams featured the woman who I dreamt of at Branhurst, I watched helplessly as she danced around on the roof, shouting that she could fly.


	29. Chapter 29

April came, and with it came the first word from Mr. Rochester. Not much was said to Mrs. Fairfax, I assume, for she seemed to sigh and say: "Well, he's not coming for a little while longer yet. He still has pressing matters in London. But, he says that when he does come, he will be bringing along someone for you. I have no idea what he means, it all seems very peculiar doesn't it?" I smiled and said that Mr. Rochester was a peculiar man. Mrs. Fairfax laughed, "Yes, I suppose he is" she said.

Another few weeks passed, and one day I was fetched from the library by Sophie. "Mademoiselle Allen, you are requested" she said in stuttering english. If the Reader is wondering, the answer is 'Yes, I was beginning to teach her as well. No use not doing it' I reasoned. She was in England, and was likely to be here for quite some time. I also supposed that she would most likely (after Adele had no more need of her) find another job here on the Isle.

"Oh, did Mrs. Fairfax send for me?" I inquired.

"Oui, she got more news from Monsieur Rochester. Along with a present from London." Sophie replied. "She wishes for you to come immediately, as she does not know what to do with it." I stood, "Very well" I replied, following the younger girl out. Adele requested to accompany us, and I could not refuse her.

On my way downstairs, my curiosity spawned numerous questions. The majority of it being: What was it?

Perhaps the Reader recalls a conversation I had with Mr. Rochester about horses? He had told me to ride any choice of his mares. I had not done so, for I had not had the opportunity to have that discussion with him. Therefore, I had not ridden during my time since my return. It would seem that that fact had not escaped him, and his present was for me.

It was a mare, a beautiful Buckskin Andalusian. I stared at the creature in awe. "Ah, there you are child" Mrs. Fairfax exclaimed, "Here, a note came with her. It is addressed to you" she said, handing me a piece of paper. I opened the object, and read the words. They were simple, and straight to the point:

_'Dear Miss Allen,_

_While here in London, I saw this beauty. Knowing that you have no ride at Thornfield, and most likely would not consider bringing Gaius to the Hall, I therefore took the liberty of buying her. She is an Andalusian, not that you probably do not know that already – for you seem to be exceptionally knowledgeable in such matters – one of the last of the dying breed. She is yours, if you will allow it. She has been trained to an extent, enough to be easy to ride. I shall return in a fortnight of this note and present, I hope to see you upon your noble mare. _

_Edward Rochester' _

Adele's little french mouth was agape, admiring the beauty, for she was indeed beautiful. "Ah, mon dieu, Mademoiselle Marie. Is she from Mr. Rochester? I'm sure she is, she is beautiful" she gushed, I chuckled in disbelief, rereading the note a few times more.

"Yes, she is." I still could not believe that Mr. Rochester had bought me a horse. And an Andalusian no less. If I was at Branhurst, it would be considered improper – but I had long since understood that Mr. Rochester did not follow the normal rules of propriety.

"She is more beautiful than most of the presents Mr. Rochester has gotten for me. He must like you very much" Adele continued to tattle, and I did not stop her. Not in several years had I received such a gift. I was overwhelmed. "What will you name her?" Adele inquired, I quickly wondered what to name such a marvelous animal.

What does one name such a beauty? Hero? No, although Shakespeare declared Hero as exceedingly beautiful, that was out of the question. Cleopatra? Desdemonda? Juliet? – Never. I would not want to curse the poor creature with names of women who were doomed to death.

"Portia" I declared after my debate, "Yes, I think that Portia suits her well, for she is as fair as Portia of Venice was said to have been" I said whilst allowing 'Portia' to nuzzle my hand. The Andalusian seemed to approve of her christening, for she neighed in reply.

Adele looked up at me quizzically, "Who is Portia of Venice?" she asked.

I chuckled, "Remind me when we go to the library, I will show you then" I told her, petting Portia. She tossed her black mane, and whinnied. I wondered when I would be able to ride her.

Mrs. Fairfax smiled kindly, "Well my dear, John will put her in one of the stalls. Mr. Rochester sent me a letter, informing me that I am to make sure you ride her every other day – at the least – for exercise. If you don't, and do not have a very good excuse, then I am to tell him. At least, that is what he writes" she said, holding up a piece of paper, which I assumed was a letter from my master.

"Well, I cannot complain. She is a beauty, and I only hope that she will not be unhappy here. Spain is not the same climate as the moors. Even though the Moors invaded Spain." Adele giggled, for I had taught her the Moorish invasion the day before. With one last pet to my Portia, I told Adele we were to return inside to finish our lessons.

* * *

There was no chance of riding Portia that day. The rain made it impossible. It was two weeks since I had received her, and I had ridden as often as I could – remembering how Mr. Rochester had given instructions (which were hardly needed) that I was to ride often.

It was already May, and Mr. Rochester had been in town for five months. I would never have admitted it then, Reader, but I was most anxious for his return. I wanted to hear his laughter – or even his barking manner, while he would tell me to sit down (and then regret his tone and request my forgiveness) and politely ask me again – for the house was all too quiet. It had been two weeks since he said he would return in a fortnight. A fortnight had passed, and still I awaited his arrival. No word came telling us one thing or another. Every morning and evening I would inquire if he had returned, and every evening I would pray that everything was alright – and go to bed disappointed.

But this day was different, for when I looked out on the rain, a carriage rolled up. John had gone to Millcote with Mrs. Fairfax, for he had to get some repairs done, and she had some errands to run. I watched as she came down from the carriage, and hurriedly entered the house. Her steps were urgent, as if she was in some kind of emergency. I wondered what it was, until I looked again.

Tied behind the carriage was a horse, and were it any horse then I would not have thought anything – but it was Mesrour. Which only meant one thing: Mr. Rochester was also in that carriage. My suspicions were confirmed as John went to the carriage door and helped a figure out. I was overjoyed! That is, until I saw that John had to help Mr. Rochester into the house.

There was something wrong.

I immediately exited the library, and went down the stairs, just as I heard Mrs. Fairfax yell "Molly!" Upon entering the foyer, I saw that Mr. Rochester was being supported entirely by John. "What happened?" I asked, voicing my questions which were flitting through my head.

"The master is ill, Molly." Mrs. Fairfax informed me.

"Ill?" I repeated, that ominous word meant far too much to me.

"Yes, he rode all the way from London on Mesrour, like he always does. There was just one problem, he got caught in a storm. I don't know how long he was out in the cold before he found an inn, but it was long enough to sicken him. He has been like this for two days, he told me." she said, bustling about giving orders. She told John to take him to his room, and then to go for the doctor; she then told another to fetch some water for the Master, and to tell the cook to start some broth.

"You had better go with John, Molly, he may need you" she told me. I agreed, and quickly was beside John and Mr. Rochester's seemingly lifeless form.

"Is that you Molly?" Mr. Rochester mumbled – allow me to correct my previous statement, not quite lifeless.

"Yes, sir, it is I" I replied.

"Good. Did you receive my present?" he asked, he was apparently more lucid than I had originally thought.

"Yes, sir. I thank you, she is beautiful" I replied, opening the door for John. He quickly brought Mr. Rochester in and set him on his bed.

"Forgive me Miss Molly, but I need t' fetch the doctor." he apologized.

"Thank you John, I will take care of him from here" I replied, quickly going to my master's side. I took off his hat, and began to unbutton his coat. It was soaked through, was it any wonder that he was sick?

"What did you name her, Molly?" Mr. Rochester asked, I looked up to his eyes, they were red with exhaustion.

"Portia" I answered, "I thought it suited her"

Mr. Rochester laughed, "Yes, I suppose it does. She is lovely isn't she?" he asked, suddenly breaking into a coughing fit. He was worse than I had realized, but I was no doctor. I could not say for sure that he was truly in a dangerous position, but I was taking no chances. I deftly removed his overcoat, and began to help him out of his jacket.

"You have followed my instructions, yes?" he asked, I assumed he referred to me riding her.

"Yes, sir, I have." I answered.

"And do you no longer desire to ride your stallion, Gaius?" he inquired.

I smiled, "Either horse is a beautiful mount, I dare not choose favorites" I replied.

"A wise answer. Very diplomatic of you" he responded, chuckling ever so slightly. He once more began to cough,"Do I look like I've been to hell, Molly?" he asked, I looked at him again.

"Yes, sir" I replied, taking in his appearance. He did indeed look unwell, I then placed my wrist upon his forehead. He was very hot. Poor man. "You feel like you've been there too" I said.

"I have" he replied, "I have been there over and over. At various times in my life. You are looking well though" he observed.

"I thank you for your observation, sir. I am well. You, however, are not. And I'm afraid I must insist upon you lying back as I try to do this." I ordered, pushing him against his own pillows. I began to undo his cravat, he would need as much cold air as possible.

He smiled, and did as ordered for once. "Caring Molly. Always thinking of others, your aunt said." he mumbled, drowsiness was beginning to set in, I could see it.

How do I describe his appearance, Reader? For it resembled that of death. His skin was pale and drawn, the color which I was used to seeing had faded. His eyes were glazed, and saw without seeing. His hair clung to his forehead, as perspiration gathered on his brow. Indeed, he was not well. As I looked upon him, my mind could recall the images of my brother on his deathbed. Roger and Mr. Rochester resembled each other in that moment of time. Weak and gaunt. Their liveliness of temper vanishing in a moment.

A lump formed in my throat – illness had harmed far too many times. It took away those who I cared for, and left me in agonizing despair. I looked once more upon my master, his breathing had intensified, as he found it harder to take in the life-giving air which he needed. He slept, which was a good thing in some respects. In others, it could mean death.

Oh, where was the blasted doctor? Shouldn't he have been here by now? Why did he delay? Did he not know that Mr. Rochester was in a terrible predicament? That his life was hanging precariously upon an edge? I shook my head of the thoughts, for I realized I was being irrational.

As I finished taking off as many of his clothes as I dared, I sat beside his bed – praying that he would be spared the fate my brother endured.

"Let him live. Dear God, let him live." I pleaded, " If not for my sake, then please, for Adele's. Do not let her suffer my fear."


	30. Chapter 30

The doctor came not long afterwards, and immediately ushered me out so he could examine Mr. Rochester in privacy. I complied dumbly, and left the room to go back to the library. Adele was there, sitting on Sophie's lap, helping her read the book in her hands – blissfully ignorant of the events which were occurring outside the room and up the stairs.

Indeed, for Mrs. Fairfax had informed me that Adele had been purposefully kept in that state of mind so as to keep her from worry until further information could be gathered. "Mademoiselle" she called out, "Come and see, I am showing Sophie the book you were reading to me. She is coming along nicely in her english, no?" she asked, telling Sophie to read a passage from the book. It was Antony's speech in Julius Caesar.

I struggled hard to hear Sophie's recital, for my worry gnawed at me. I hoped that it was nothing more than a cold, but my fears preyed on my experience with illness. This was how I was told it started with Roger, I was told. But with Roger it was tuberculosis, a condition he got as a child. I only hoped that Mr. Rochester had not a similar condition.

Sophie read on, with Adele continually correcting her, both unaware that I had not heard the initial first stanzas. I retreated back to my thoughts.

Why? Why had I suffered so much heartbreak? Why had I been given those to love, only to lose them to tragedy? Any why, of all things, sickness? It was as if I cursed those who I loved more dearly than the world with the horrible death. My father, my mother, my brother, my uncle. Now, my employer – no, he was more than that. He was my closest friend.

During the time he was away, I had begun to realize that my feelings for Mr. Rochester were strong than I anticipated. I missed him, and was anxious for his return. Now he had come back, but was so sick, that my soul could not help but be worried. I cared dearly for his well being, and the thought of losing him made my heart clench.

I would not say 'love', for I was not sure that my being lead me in that direction. Care for, was the terminology I used. I cared for him deeply. I could not lose him now.

Sophie finished her stanza, and she finished well, only a few places needed improvement. "You have improved beautifully, Sophie." I praised, turning my mind on anything but what was going on upstairs. "Adele, come, let me hear that prelude by Chopin that you've been working on" I said, leading the girl to the pianoforte.

She sat down, and slowly but surely began playing the piece. The melody was somber and passionate. I listened, and corrected her along the way until the door opened – revealing Mrs. Fairfax.

"There you are my dear, may I have a word?" she invited me out, and I followed, instructing Adele to continue her scales. She happily complied, and I was grateful, I didn't want her overhearing what Mrs. Fairfax and I had to say.

Mrs. Fairfax paced the hallway outside the door for a moment, "I've just spoken to Dr. Carter. He says that Mr. Rochester has developed a bad fever – infectious, I believe was his phrase. Adele must be kept away from the room, and he must have someone there continuously" she told me in a rush.

"Did Dr. Carter say how long until he expected him well?" I inquired.

"No, he said that such an illness' length depends on how well the patient is before the sickness sets in. Oh!" she placed her handkerchief to her mouth, grasping my arm, "This is very bad Molly, what if he doesn't recover?" she asked in despair.

"If we fear he will not, he won't. We must have faith that he will make it through this, well and fully recovered" I replied, but my words were empty. I felt just as she, my heart was breaking, but I would not show it. "We must not give up hope" I said.

Mrs. Fairfax smiled at me, "You're a good girl, Molly. You've dealt with sickness before, you told me about your brother. I am afraid I have not dealt with it as much. At least, not for fifteen years, not since the old master died." she said to herself.

Dr. Carter was soon descending the stairs, "Miss Allen?" he called, I turned to him.

"Yes, sir?" I answered.

"Can you please see to Mr. Rochester, I wish to have a word with Mrs. Fairfax" he informed me, and with one last sad smile to Mrs. Fairfax, I quickly ascended the stairs to Mr. Rochester's room.

* * *

When I opened the door to my master's room, I apprehensively looked at the bed. Mr. Rochester lay on it, his breathing was heavier than before. His hair clung to his brow, as perspiration gathered. He was murmuring, and turning in his bed in discomfort. Poor man, he looked miserable.

I approached his bed, wishing that I had a basin of water to cool him. I looked around, spotting his pitcher and basin on his dressser. Perfect. I quickly poured some and took the towel beside it. I returned to his side, and began dabbing the cloth on his wide forehead.

"Jane?" I heard Mr. Rochester murmur, his eyes close. "Jane, you unearthly thing, is that you?" he asked. Jane Eyre?

I was at a loss, I knew not how to reply. Did I dare reply in the name of 'Jane'? Or should I simply inform him that I was Molly, not Jane?

"Jane Eyre, with nothing to say?" he questioned with a laugh in his voice, as if it were a inside joke which they were the only partakers in. "You are gone for a year, and you return, yet you have nothing to say?"

"Sir?" I replied, my mind still arguing on how to answer his delusions.

"Edward, Jane!" his voice was forceful, as if he had had this argument with her a thousand times. "You are my equal, you were going to be my wife. It is 'Edward', not 'sir'"

I stuttered, how do I reply?

"Why did you leave me?" he asked, his brow furrowed, his voiced cracked with pain. "Why would you run off, without even saying goodbye? You said we'd discuss the house on the Mediterranean in the morning, and then you left without saying a word. Why? I looked for you, I sent inquiries. I was worried, where have you been?" he asked.

My heart broke for him, I never knew this much about his relationship with my predecessor. Marriage? Running off? Was that the big argument which all seemed to allude yet no one ever gave me a straight answer? Dare I answer in the name of Jane, and find all my questions answered in a moment of Mr. Rochester's delusions? If I did, then I could always simply say he told me by accident. Dare I sacrifice my conscience for my curiosity?

No! Was my reply. I would not use him in a moment of weakness to satisfy my intrigue. "Sir?" I said weakly.

"Jane..." he said in a warning tone.

"Sir, I-" I was interrupted as his hand reached up, and before I was aware of it, he kissed me. I froze, unsure of how to proceed. I broke away, "Sir, you are not yourself" I said quietly.

"Jane, you bewitching creature, why do you pull away?" he muttered again, reaching for me once more. I stepped away from the bed, too far for his reach.

"Mr. Rochester, sir. It is not Jane, it is I, Molly Allen!" I exclaimed. He looked confused.

"Molly?" he echoed, slowly opening his eyes. "Molly" he said again, leaning back into his pillows. He ran a hand over his face and looked around, he obviously had woken out of his delusion. "Molly, forgive me." he apologized, "I thought that Jane – I thought –"

"I know." I finished, "I know, sir. It is alright, I do not blame you. You are not yourself" I said.

He looked at me, and smiled, "Dear Molly, I am truly unwell" he said weakly with a laugh.

I approached the bed once more, "Do not think of it, you must rest sir" I said. His eyes opened again, fixating on me, "I'm sorry, Molly. I didn't mean –"

I shushed him, "No wrong has been done, sir. You must rest." I said, pulling the coverlet up to his shoulders.

"Molly" Mr. Rochester mumbled, "Molly. . ." he then slipped into unconsciousness. I watched him for a moment longer, cooling his forehead with the cloth. Confused, and startled by my new discovery. A smile settled on his face, "Jane. . ." he mumbled once more.

Dr. Carter returned not much later, relieving me of my duties. He told me that I was no use to Mr. Rochester half dead from exhaustion. I thanked him in reply, retreating to my room. But I did not sleep, and was just as restless as Mr. Rochester was down the hall. Some of my questions were answered, regarding Jane Eyre. But new ones filled their places.

He loved her, that was certain, he loved her deeply. He was pained that she had left him, after a apparent discussion of marriage and the Mediterranean. She left without a word, which would explain all the secrecy of Mrs. Fairfax and Mr. Rochester. But why? For what reason would a woman like what I had heard of Jane Eyre, leave a man like Mr. Rochester? What would have caused for her to go without any word for a year?

There was something more, that much I knew. Something which was below the surface, which caused for her to leave him, after they were so obviously much in love. I wondered if there was a way to get word to her, to tell her her beloved was ill. And possibly on his deathbed.

I then remembered that he said he had tried to look for her, to no avail. There must be a way, she had to know. Hadn't she?

The selfish part of rose its ugly head, why should she know? She was the one who did the leaving, and broke his heart. Would she want to know? And if she did, then what did that say about her? He loved her. She left. It was as simple as that. Why should I intervene? For all I knew she was married to someone else, if she could even be found, and I did not want to break my master's heart again.

Pure, unadulterated jealousy burned in my heart. And that was what it was, jealousy. I laugh now, realizing that it was nothing more than a schoolgirl reaction. As a matter of fact, I realized it then, and quickly sacrificed it in order to at least bring my master some happiness. Even if she was married, she deserved to know. If she returned she could bring some joy into his life, some hope, and bring him back from the pit of death.

I sighed, but how would I go about it? For I had decided by this point, Reader, that I would find her. I was determined. But for now, my eyes began to droop in exhaustion, and I fell asleep.


	31. Chapter 31

The next morning, I posted a letter to my cousin Richard, inquiring of him how one would go about finding a person. A specific person, whose name I supplied him with: Miss Jane Eyre. Yes, Reader, I had decided to find her. I knew not how, but my faith supplied my determination with hope. I would bring her back, if I could, and make my master happier than I was sure that I had ever seen him.

Over the next few days, Mr. Rochester was completely unconscious. His fever burned hot, and his delirium increased, as did his incoherent mumbling. Dr. Carter was by his side the majority of the time, and the times he was not, he had Mrs. Fairfax or myself watch over the patient.

I also found that there was another servant in the house, thanks to seeing her in the hallway on the second day. I had been unaware of her presence since my arrival and therefore asked Mrs. Fairfax. Her name was Grace Poole. Mrs. Fairfax told me that she did some kind of needlework in the upstairs rooms, but was very secluded. "I'm surprised she was in this hallway, she never comes near Mr. Rochester's room unless he requests to see her. How odd." she said, tutting away and leaving with the excuse of 'She was going to look into it.'

Adele spent the majority of her time with Sophie, and was kept as far away from Mr. Rochester and myself as possible. The worry was that she might catch the illness from me, as I spent the most time with him – I agreed heartily, and after giving her some assignments for her schooling, she was kept to the opposite side of the house.

I spent my days in Mr. Rochester's room, my sketchbook and pencils in hand. I made scenes which took my worries away. For you can lose yourself so easily when you are creating an image out of your head. And I can say, Reader, I created many images in my time of seclusive vigil.

The first was that of a stone wall, with a gate of sorts. On the other side of the gate, the moon rose gloriously over a hill, a river ran between the gate and the hill. On this hill one tree stood. Leafless, and burned. Yet, on one branch a single bud blossomed. A hope of life, amidst the death. A young girl stood tentatively at the entrance of the gate, marveling the sight before her. Her back turned to the observer, her hand resting gracefully upon the wall. I titled it 'Hope'. I don't why, but did. Perhaps I view things differently than the rest of the world.

Another image sprang up in my head, which I soon had down on paper. It showed a woman dressed in black, her back too was turned to the observer, she was surrounded by flowers on a street. Much like the flower-girls of London, selling their bunches of flowers for a shilling. She look on, for on the other side of the street, another flower-girl was selling flowers. She wore white, and women were admiring her flowers. But the woman in black was alone, looking despairingly toward the other flower-girl, wondering what it was that made the women go to her. Any why they cared not for her. A lonely picture, but a symbolic one. 'The Woman in Black' I called it.

The third was of another women (for women are my favorite subjects), she stood in a garden, filled with flowers. Happy and content, with no sorrow, or pain, or suffering. Blissfully traipsing through the garden of joy, the garden of life. A smile on her face, as she picked the flowers aimlessly, adding them to her growing bouquet. A man stood in the background, admiring the woman, a look of love in his eyes. True love. I knew not what to call it, so I called 'Adoration', a dull name but suitable for the time being.

I wondered briefly what Mr. Rochester would have thought of them? Perhaps he would see them when he was well, although I knew not when that would be. But I worried not as I did whilst watching him sleep, occasionally brushing a cloth upon his broad forehead. For my art took most of my worries away. I found myself quite content with my art, and the presence of my friend. Even if he spoke little. My thoughts of hope, despair, and adoration took all my doubts away.

* * *

Four days had passed since Mr. Rochester returned ill, and I had been dismissed to go and sleep in my own bed instead of the chaise. It was a warm night, and I tossed and turned for the majority of it. Something was wrong, I could feel it. Something was going to happen, but I knew not what. Yet, my weariness took over my anxiety, and I fell asleep from pure exhaustion.

I was a jolted away, however, by a strange laugh. It shook me to the core, inciting all the fears which I had first developed of this strange place. I stayed still, perhaps I had only imagined it. There it was again, this time closer to my door than ever. I waited, terrified of what was on the other side. I saw a candle's light in the gap under the door stop. I quickly looked at the lock and sighed in relief as I saw it was in place. The knob twisted, but the door did not move.

Whoever was on the other side began humming, it was a tune which I recognized, but I knew not from where. The candle flickered, and the humming went away from my door and down the hall. The floors creaked, as they walked down the hallway which led to Mr. Rochester's room. My heart beat harder than it already was, why would they be going in that direction? I sprang from my bed, throwing my robe over my shoulders as I went.

I gingerly opened my door, peering into the hallway. But all I saw was black, not even the candle's light was seen. I closed it again, taking my own candle and going out. I cautiously padded down the hallway, cursing my foolishness for not putting on my shoes before I left, for my feet were colder now.

I heard murmuring coming from the end of the hall, and I turned down the hall that led to Mr. Rochester's room. From the gap at the bottom of the door, a light shone, informing me that someone was in the room with him. I approached the door, careful of the creaking boards which were a few feet away.

My hand grabbed the knob to his door, slowly turning it so as to not arouse suspicion. Blowing out my candle, I cracked the door open. The humming began again, and I was aware that it was the same person who had stood outside my door. Throwing caution and my fear to the wind, I opened the door wider, unsure of what lay on the other side.

There he lay, Mr. Rochester, still in his delirium. A figure hovered over him, murmuring words which were unintelligible It was a woman. She was dressed in white, her dark hair cascading down. She was beautiful – like a siren. She whispered again to my unconscious master, then giggled. Her hand brushed the hair away from his forehead, touching his face softly. She hummed again, and turned to the bedside table which was beside her.

"Bertha?" Mr. Rochester mumbled, 'Bertha' smiled maliciously, picking something up from the table. I watched with interest as she came back to him, touching his face again, "Bertha? What are you doing here?" he asked groggily. She lifted her hand above her head, and in the firelight, I saw the glimmer. My heart jumped into my throat as I realized it was a knife.

I rushed forward, and crossed the room in a matter of seconds. I seized her hand, stopping it from coming down on my sleeping master. She growled in surprise, she had been unaware of my presence, but was furious of my interruption. She took my hand, in an effort to make me release my hold. It was like a vice, and I cried out in pain and effortlessly tried to pry her hands from my wrist. I looked into her eyes, and saw insanity. It was as if I was looking into the eyes of a devil, I felt immediate fear. We struggled a few moments, finding ourselves on the other side of Mr. Rochester's bed.

She let go of my wrist, deciding to place her hand on my throat instead. I panicked as my air supply was diminished rapidly, and my hands were trying to do two things now. One was trying to pull her hand away from my throat, and the other was keeping the hand which held the knife at bay.

Mr. Rochester stirred, "Bertha. . .Molly?" he mumbled. My lungs began to burn from the lack of oxygen, and my vision began to darken considerably. My left hand managed to knock her right on the bedpost, relinquishing her hold on the knife. She howled, and used her now free hand to choke me further.

"Bertha, let her go" Mr. Rochester pleaded weakly, she did not hear him, and continued to drain me of my life. Would this be how I would die? I wondered, vaguely feeling her drop my almost unconscious body onto the bed. She released her hold on my throat, I suppose that she believed that I was now lifeless. But it was far from the truth, I simply breathed shallowly so as not to arouse suspicion. She was stronger than she looked.

She gently took my hands, laying them in a funeral-like manner across my chest. "Molly, no" I heard Mr. Rochester say meekly. I felt the depression as she sat on his side of the bed. "Bertha" I heard him plead, and I opened my eyes slightly so as to see but look as if I was sleeping. I saw her leaning over him, the knife once more in her hands. His hands were holding her back, but his body's sickness had made him weak.

My left hand inched toward the bedside table, reaching for anything of weight. I watched helplessly as I tried to find something which would do some damage. My fingers touched a little statuette, which I knew was of some weight, and grasped onto it just as Mr. Rochester's arms bent. At that moment, I knew what I would do, and I swung my arm and my body toward the woman – aiming the statuette to hit her head. With a cry, she fell from the bed, and laid motionless on the floor.

Mr. Rochester sighed, and I looked up at him, as my position in any other situation would have been scandalous. He didn't make things any better as he threw his arms around me, "Molly" he said breathlessly, pressing a kiss to my forehead.

"Yes, sir, it is I" I said, my breaths equally as laborious. "I must see to her" I said, untangling myself from his grasp.

"Of course" he replied, releasing me. I stood from the bed, and went to her side, cautiously of course. Blood had begun to stream from her temple, but after checking her pulse, I observed that she still lived. I looked up at Mr. Rochester, "She is unconscious" I informed him, looking for something to bind her with if she woke. I saw the ropes for the curtains, and I rose and untied them from their places and took them back to her.

"Who is she sir? And why was she trying to kill you?" I asked, binding her hands and feet tightly, I didn't want her getting away.

Mr. Rochester sighed, "Oh, Molly, it is a very long story. One which I am not ready to tell, at least not now" he told me tiredly.

"Yes, sir" I replied in frustration, and went to his side. "You must rest, sir" I said, pulling the blanket up to his shoulders."You must recover your strength, I saw you struggle with her. Please sir, rest" I pleaded.

"Molly, you saved me." he muttered, "You have no idea what would have happened if you hadn't come when you did"

I smiled, "Yes, sir. I am just glad that she came to my room first" I told him.

His brows furrowed in concern, "She came to your room?" he asked as his hand touched my cheek. "Are you alright?" he asked warmly.

"I'm fine sir, my door was locked. I'm just a little breathless is all." I said rubbing my throat.

He chuckled, looking over to the bedside table, "Inventive, hitting her on the head" he said, closing his eyes. "Tell Grace Poole" he instructed tiredly, he was already falling asleep. "She will know what to do – don't ask questions. When I am well, I will tell you all, I promise. And you know I keep my promises" his hand dropped to his side as his breathing evened and he fell back asleep.

I stood, looking at the woman on the floor. Bertha. Well, I had something else to be confused about. But one thing I thought as I took the candle: one should always make sure that one murder is complete, before trying to commit another murder.

* * *

I quickly did as he had instructed, and went to where Mrs. Fairfax said that Grace Poole resided. She was there, sleeping, a bottle of gin next to her. I shook her awake, and she sat up, surprise in her eyes. "Miss Allen, how can I help you?" she asked in her brogue.

"Its Bertha, Mrs. Poole. She is in Mr. Rochester's room." I told her.

Her eyes widened, "I don't know-"

"Don't lie to me Grace, Mr. Rochester told me to tell you." I interrupted. She nodded, and pulled her shoes on, standing with a wary look on her face. "She is unconscious, so if you need help, I am willing" I said.

She shook her head, "Thank you Miss, but I am good ol' Irish stock. I can take care of her on my own" she boasted, lighting a candle and leaving the room.

I shivered, and pulled my robe closer to my body. I looked at the clock, and saw it was four o'clock. I went to my room, I most likely would not get to sleep now, so I dressed. First Jane Eyre, now this Bertha. I was looking forward to when I knew all, for my confusion was beginning to become an irritant.


	32. Chapter 32

The next morning, I went to Millcote to see if Richard had replied to my letter. As it was, I had received a letter from Richard in Cambridge. I opened it immediately, hoping that he had the answer to all my problems.

_'My Dearest Molly,_

_I must confess, I was surprised at your letter. I am well, my studies are turning to harder subjects than before, but that is to be expected. I am glad that you are doing well, but am sorry to hear about Mr. Rochester's illness. I send my condolences, and my condolences to you, my dear cousin. It must be hard to deal with sickness once more, for it has followed you like a plague. But, I know you shall overcome, and perhaps one day you will no longer suffer from it. He is in my prayers, as are you._

_As to your other subject, your governess predecessor Jane Eyre. I am surprised you wish to find her, but no matter, I shall do as you command – and did, as it turns out. When I read your letter, a schoolfellow of mine, a Walter Ashcombe, came to see me. He inquired at my writing for a project, which is no consequence, the information which I wish to share is what he knew. He said his father knew a man by the name of Eyre. His father is a member of the __faculty__, and I quickly resolved to see the man. _

_He told me of a friend of his named John Eyre, who resides in Madeira. Yes, my dear Molly, before you ask, it is where the wine comes from. He told me that this John Eyre was of a young adventurous sort, who had been visiting England some eight years ago in search of his family. Mr. Ashcombe then received a letter from said gentleman, after he departed England, telling him of a niece which had been born to his elder brother. This niece's name? Jane Eyre. Indeed, for Mr. Ashcombe still had the letter, I could read it to you now. By and by, this Mr. Eyre had inquired at his brother's wife's sister-in-law, a Mrs. Reed of Gateshead hall about the child. _

_Long story short, he discovered that the child had been sent to school some fifty miles off, called Lowood. He could not stay long, and was obligated to leave the country the next day. I have written a letter to this Mrs. Reed of Gateshead, inquiring of her niece, I sent it the same day I sent this letter. So,when you receive yours, she should receive hers. When she replies, I shall inform you. _

_Yours ever, _

_Richard"_

So, Jane Eyre had a family. Perhaps it was with them that she was staying? I returned to Thornfield, slowly mulling over the possibilities. Either she was with her family, or she was elsewhere. If she was with her family, it would be easy to find her, and bring her back. If the opposite was true, then finding a single woman in England would be like finding a needle in a haystack.

* * *

When I entered the house, Mrs. Fairfax was pacing. However, upon noticing my return, rushed toward me. "Ah, Molly, you have come back from Millcote. Excellent, I wish to have a word with you" she said, leading me into the dining room. I was curious to what she could be wanting to speak of, for I believed that Bertha was most likely not the subject. I shivered in remembrance of the day before, I was grateful I didn't return to slumber, for I knew that I would be tormented by dreams. As it was, I got no sleep the night before, as I kept waking because of my dreams.

"Are you cold dear?" Mrs. Fairfax asked good-natured. I shook my head, then nodded, "A little I suppose" I said, she laughed at my two-minded answer. At least she suspected nothing more. "I suppose that you know that Dr. Carter came here this morning to check on the master?" I nodded, he had come just when I was leaving. "Well, he gave me some good news this morning. Mr. Rochester's fever has broken" she said.

I smiled, "That is good news, I'm happy to hear that. Adele will be very pleased, I'm sure. Tell me, did Dr. Carter say he was completely out of danger?" I asked.

"Yes, he said that he must rest and completely recover. He was asking for you when he woke, but you had already gone out. He told me to have you go to him when you returned." she said, I nodded, saying that I would put my things in my room and then see to him. "That's good, dear, he seems to have taken a shining to you. Thats a very special privilege, not many have gotten that well into is good graces" she said.

"Well, I suppose it has to do with my personality. Everyone else must be very impressed by his wealth, and his station. People probably flatter him so much, so I'm sure he enjoys the unusual change." I reasoned.

"You definitely gave him a change when you first came here, he was delighted" Mrs. Fairfax told me, I chuckled, excusing myself and going to my room.

* * *

When I knocked on Mr. Rochester's door, a half-hour later, I was pleased to hear Mr. Rochester's lively tone.

"Well come in, its not like I can stop you!" he barked, he obviously didn't know it was me.

I entered the room, my eyebrow raised in defiance. His eyes turned to me, and lit up, but his tone was still sour. "So, its you. Took you long enough. Mrs. Fairfax said you returned a half-hour ago, where have you been? Dilly-dallying in front of your looking-glass no doubt, you women seem to be obsessed with your looks" he muttered.

My look did not change, and he noticed, "I apologize, sir, I was unaware you were awake. Mrs. Fairfax had told me you were resting, and I supposed, sir that I would have the time to deposit my things in my room and come here without your knowledge of the time. After all, sir, it is muddy, and I had to change my dress" I explained.

"And I suppose that took you the whole of half-an-hour?" he inquired, but I knew by now that he was only joshing.

"Yes, sir, for corsets and undergarments do take a gifted hand to undo – and my clumsiness doesn't help things" I said, watching as a blush tinted his cheeks, and he turned away, crossing his arms over his chest and grumbling. I smiled, pulling a chair to his bedside, "But now I am here, sir: Good morning" I said cheerfully.

"What's so good about it?" he asked, "I have to sit in this bed, doctor's orders, and do nothing but stare at either the ceiling or the fireplace. I'm going to have a droll day, I hate illness and recovery. You'll probably go and be with Adele for the day, and leave me here to keep myself company." he complained. I stood, "Where do you think you're going?" he asked. I did not answer him, but instead, I went to his bookshelf and picked a book. I then returned and sat down, giving him a look which challenged any question in his mind.

I opened to the first page, reading the title, "I'm surprised, sir, at your selection of books. They do not seem to be that which a man of your station would read." I commented.

"Oh? And what would a man of my station read, do you think? Plato? Aristotle? Socrates? You are surprised that my collection includes Byron, Shakespeare, and Scott? You think I should not read poetry? Nay, for you cannot think that, you love poetry. But you think that I should not like poetry? Insolent girl! Are you so biased against me that you believe that poetry is only for people like yourself? For the lovers and the woebegone lovers, that it is so impartial to someone like me? Ugly, and unlikely to find love myself?" he ranted.

I laughed, "No, sir, I never said that, nor did I imply such a ghastly statement-"

"But it is what you meant" Mr. Rochester inserted.

"No, sir, it was not. Do you know the true meanings of my heart? Or do you leave my thoughts and feelings at those which are akin to yourself? I may be slightly cold and cynical, but I do have thoughts of love and devotion. Adoration triumphant. As do you I would imagine, for you are a believer in love just as much as any other person who has half a heart. You have felt its delights, and you have felt its pains. Indeed, for you yourself have stated that you are a man of the world" I said, watching as he smiled. What Mrs. Fairfax had said was true, he liked it when I contradicted him.

"Indeed, I have." he said, his eyes then darkening. "Which is why I wanted to see you" he said.

I looked up, "Truly?" he nodded, holding out his hand, he wanted the book. I gave I to him, and he set it on the other side of the bed.

"I'm going to tell you a story, and I want your undivided attention for only a few minutes." he said, "Do I have it?"

"Yes, sir" I answered.'Believe me, I have waited long for this' I completed in my mind.

"Very, well. A year ago -" he paused, "No, I must go further back, seventeen years to be precise. You would have been a babe in arms, at the time. Wouldn't you have?" he observed, "When I was a young man, being the second son, I had no chance of a fortune. My father would under no circumstances divide the estate between myself and my brother Rowland. However, he did not want his son, no matter position of birth, to become a pauper. Therefore, he sought for me a rich wife, so as to keep me from marrying astray, and to keep the family fortune high. He had an acquaintance, a Mr. Mason of Jamaica, who had a daughter with thirty-thousand, which would suffice. I was sent to Jamaica as soon as I was through with college, and married a wife who was arranged for me. My father told me nothing of her money, for he knew that I cared not for the stuff, but he told me of her beauty. And knowing that I had a weakness for dark, tantalizing beauties – he was sure to tell me of that. He informed me that she was the praise of Spanish Town, and every man admired her. Indeed, for there was much to admire then. She was much like you in beauty, and admiration thereof. Yes, Molly, I noted that you were admired of your acquaintances for your looks, like your friend Mr. Quincy, but that is a different matter which I will not discuss now. Are you following so far?"

"Yes, sir, I understand." I told him, urging him to tell me more of his wife.

"Bertha, (yes, the same you met a few nights ago) was kept from me. I was never allowed to be with her alone, which I cared not for, indeed, I respected her family for wishing to keep her safe from scandal. I thought I loved her, and she me. For she charmed me, and complimented me, listened to me, and sympathized with me. She acted like your sister, in her blatant and obvious display of affection. When I think of how I acted then, I wish I had never lived! I was jealous of any man who came near her, and I was rash, and irresponsible. Her father and brother encouraged me; her admirers made her that much more alluring; and she, herself, made me believe that my heart could never love again. I was married before I knew it! And my heart was elated in pride and excitement. I felt as a boy who has received his first present, or like Adele when I return." he looked to the heavens, "Oh, God forgive me!" he exclaimed. Then continued.

"My Bertha, for that was how I called her then, was the pleasantest of wives for a time. But if I had looked closely then, I would have seen that she was not in love with me. There was no modesty, there was no mercy or benevolence, I barely knew her when I married her – and I only knew less and less of her as time went by." he sighed, "I had never met her mother, as it was implied that she was dead, and had been dead for numerous years. But it was after my honeymoon that I realized that I had made the most catastrophic mistake of my life. Bertha's mother wasn't dead at all, indeed, she was mad and had been condemned to a lunatic asylum. There was a brother, whose fate was the same. The elder brother will no doubt follow in his mother's footsteps. My father and my brother knew this fact, but kept it from me. Indeed, for God's judgment was swift and my brother died not long afterwards. My father followed him four years later, leaving me this house and the estate intact." he smiled sardonically, "All that horror and misery, if I had but waited for six years, I would have been spared. I got it all anyway." he looked at me. "Is that mercenary Molly?" he asked.

I shook my head, "No, sir. Any human being would think that, for it is the truth. But, you would not have know, and you were deceived into marriage. It was not mercenary, you believed that it was the best and properest thing to do." I said, he smiled.

"Dear Molly, you think so well of me." he said, "You will not when I finish my tale, so please, listen but a little longer"

"I would listen for as long as was needed, sir" I replied.

"When I inherited this place, I moved back to England, bringing Bertha with me. I would not lock her up, for I believed it wrong for any human being to exist the rest of their lives in such a place as an institution. But her temper was increasing, for you have seen it. She could only be checked with cruelty, for that is what her father instructed, but I would not use cruelty. I therefore took her to the upstairs room, and hired Grace Poole to care for her. I then traveled the world, trying to forget all my troubles which would make themselves known when I would return. You know of my travels, for I have told you of their different tales. Adele's mother, etcetera. Two years ago, I returned home." he paused, smiling.

"I met a gentle stranger in Hay Lane, she bewitched my horse and made it fall. I never believed that, but I never let her forget it. In all fairness, she thought I was a Gytrash, come to kill a young girl in a forest. A young girl who would have no thoughts of speaking anything other than truth. She thought my travels and my pitying of myself was nonsense. Her life was filled with troubles of her own. Her family and upbringing was cruel, but she managed to keep her sanity. She was neither cynical or sadistic, nor did she think so evilly of people. Her company revived me, and I finally knew what true love was. That, dear Molly, was Jane Eyre." he laughed.

"I tried so hard to make her love me, I invited a young woman – vain, only after my fortune, and very much like Bertha named Blanche Ingram. I succeeded in the jealousy, and Jane realized that she loved me. I proposed – yes, I know I should have told her of Bertha, Molly, for that is why look at me disapprovingly. But I hoped I never would have to, or if I did, that she would forgive me and that would be an end to it - she accepted. The wedding was to be a month afterwards, a short engagement – Molly, do not look surprised, for I am sure you (if you loved as dearly as I loved Jane) you would agree. A month passed blissfully, and I was truly happy for the first time in seventeen – forgive me, for it was only fifteen years then. The wedding-day came, and my Jane (although no boast of beauty) was as beautiful as the morning star. I hurried to the church, afraid of what would happen if the vicar discovered my first marriage. My fears were realized as Bertha's brother interrupted the wedding. 'Announcing an impediment', and dashed all my hopes of love everlasting, as you call it."

"It was then that Jane found out about Bertha, and I told her my story, begging for her to run away with me. Let me finish, Molly, before your disapproving glance is turned to words. She thought as you, and ran away from me." he looked down, his life was truly a sad story. "I sought her, but found her not. I know not where she is, but I know she has an uncle who lived in Madeira, for that was how Mason found out about our _amour. _Mason and Mr. Eyre were friends. If I had written Bertha off as dead and remarried, no one would have blamed me. But because I was kind, and kept her from a fate worse than death, I was criticized, and was not allowed happiness. I became bitter, convinced that I would never know bliss again. They say it is better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all. But I hold no stock in that saying, for to love and lose is absolute misery." he looked up at me.

"It was then that you came into my life, so like my old love, yet different in your own ways. You challenged me, and I was in many ways happy again, for you have revived me for the most part. When I was ill, you looked after me, you saved my life. She saved it as well, Bertha set fire to my bed one night, and Jane woke me in time. My angel. But now you know all, you know of my current history of impediments. Tell me, do you still think of me so well?" he asked, his look truly vulnerable. He had so much pain in his life, was it any wonder he was cynical?

"Yes, sir. Because, despite your circumstances, you are still an admirable man. You may have made mistakes, but do not we all? Under the situation, sir, I would say you have dealt well with what fate has dealt you, even though it be a deathblow. You are kind, and generous, and I believe you still love." I replied, he smiled despite the tears threatening to overflow.

He reached to the other side of the bed, "Thank you, Molly" he said, holding out the book which I held before, "Your understanding is extraordinary. Not one in fifty women would have answered the same. I'm sure your own story must be the reason. From my understanding it was not a pleasant one either." I took the book from his hands.

"One day, sir, perhaps tomorrow, I will tell you my own story. For it is in many ways similar, and yet, different." I promised.

"I shall look forward to that, but for now" he tapped the book in my hands, "Read to me." he ordered, I smiled.

"As you wish, m'lord" I said, opening the book to the first page, his chuckling the only reply to my answer.


	33. Chapter 33

The next morning, I was woken early by quiet knocking on my door. "Hold on, hold on" I mumbled, putting on my robe and going to the door, I opened it. Mrs. Fairfax was on the other side, shifting nervously. "Mrs. Fairfax, Is something wrong?" I inquired.

"Ah, there you are, dear. No, nothing is wrong." she greeted warmly, "I came to give you a message from the Master" she said.

I was puzzled, as far as I knew I was going to see him this morning. Was something wrong? "A message?" I inquired.

"Mr. Rochester has told me to tell you that you are to have breakfast with him, instead of with me."

"Did he say why the change in habit?"

"No, but he told me that if you did not come down soon, he would leave his room and bring you himself. You are to go directly, for it is almost nine o'clock! He said that you too often take your time, and he doesn't want breakfast to get cold. As you know, he does not like to be kept waiting."

"But I am not dressed!" I wailed. She quickly offered to help me, for which I was grateful, and she entered the room.

"Tell me, my dear, do you – that is to say, you don't –" she kept interrupting herself as she brought out my day dress.

"What is it?"

"Do you care for the master?" she asked finally, ending my confusion; and yet causing my cheeks to flush with embarrassment.

That was a question which I wished to avoid, but I knew that Mrs. Fairfax was perceptive enough to notice my growing affection for Mr. Rochester. Her question lingered in my mind, it was a question which I battled within myself quite often. But did I want to give the truth of the matter, or did I simply push it away with jest? I looked at her in confusion, and shook my head.

"I care for him deeply. He is a good friend, and I must admit I enjoy his company. When he was ill, I was very worried, for Adele's sake if for no one else's. But if you are referring to love – I don't think I am in love with him. I simply care for him dearly, as I would any friend" I answered.

She looked at me warily, "Be careful, Molly, his heart is not free. Nor is his hand." she told me.

I nodded, telling her that I understood. If only she knew of just how much I had been informed of. I knew his heart was taken by Jane Eyre, and his hand in marriage by Bertha Mason. I had no hope of his love, his friendship was the one thing I cherished.

"I'm surprised you are not married, Molly." Mrs. Fairfax commented while tying my dress, "Being such a pretty little thing like you are. Surely there is some young man who at least once asked to marry you"

I smiled, thinking to myself what Mr. Rochester would no doubt say when I told him of my own past – which I had already determined to do that day. "There were." I said, answering Mrs. Fairfax, but being as vague as possible. "But, there were complications"

She smiled, and ushered me out the door, telling me to tell her more one day. I agreed, and descended the stairs to Mr. Rochester's room.

* * *

Upon stepping upon the landing, I observed John's wife at Mr. Rochester's door with a tray of food. I gently touched her arm, telling her I would take it in, but requesting that she knock on the door. She did so, and we received a sound from inside, something like 'Come in' but I never was more unsure. She turned the knob, allowed me to slip inside, and shut it behind me.

"Is Miss Allen down yet Doris? Or is Mrs. Fairfax chattering with her?" he inquired tersely, looking out the window. "Damn it all, I should have gone up myself,whoever goes up there never comes down with her! They talk forever, leaving me waiting, but I'm very close to not waiting any longer. If she doesn't come down here within the next few minutes, I'm eating without her" he declared.

I cleared my throat, causing him to turn around, he looked at me nonchalantly, "Oh, its you" he said dismissively, looking back out the window. I sat down, and he looked at me once more.

"You knew I was here, didn't you?" I stated, watching as he smiled, shaking his head.

"Yes, you are too perceptive for your own good." he stated, looking at the food expectantly.

I stood and reached for the tray filled with delicious looking breakfast of toast, eggs, sausage, and coffee. I placed the tray over his legs, and took one of the plates for myself.

"What? No 'Good morning, sir'? Who are you and what has happened to Miss Mary Allen who is constantly polite with her instant 'good morning's first thing when she sees you?" he asked. I looked at him, watching as his food was getting cold.

"Good morning, sir" I said.

"Good morning" he replied.

"And how did you sleep?"

"I slept well, yourself?"

"Extraordinarily well. Though that could be attributed to the fact that I was kept awake by you not allowing me to go to bed until the Canterbury Tales were finished" I replied smartly.

He guffawed, "Not allowing you to go to bed? You could have gone to bed at any time" he said, "You were the one who wanted to finish Canterbury Tales. Speaking of, you don't have a book this time. Why not?" he asked.

"Because, I will be recounting a different tale. The Tale of Mary Allen and Charles Nelson" I jested.

Interest was instantaneously piqued in him, "Are you really?" he asked rhetorically.

"Yes. But I require no interruptions" I said, stating his previous requirements. He nodded and told me 'Begin'

"I believe I have told you of my childhood. My parent's death, and my subsequent living with my Aunt and Uncle at Branhurst. There is not much to tell of that, but it is in regards to Charles Nelson that you wish to know."

"Charles Nelson was the son of one of my tutors, Mrs. Nelson. He lived in London with his rich uncle, and came to Northampton ever so often to visit his mother. When he did, I was there. He was a few years my senior, and took no interest in a little girl of ten – which is when I first met him. In fact, he used to tease me for my clumsiness, and although I was rather talented at various things, he said that I was far too knowledgeable for my own good. Although I fancied him, I knew he had no interest in me whatsoever. It was not until my seventeenth birthday that I first caught his interest. Over the years, I had gone from clumsy and bookish, to beautiful and – as he described often – tantalizing. My aunt did not like him, in fact she liked another man who lived in the neighborhood. His name was Henley, Colonel Henley, who was a bachelor of thirty-five, with a troubled past involving a young woman who lived in his family household. But Charles is who interested me, not because of who he was necessarily, but because he was forbidden. And the more that my Aunt pushed me toward the Colonel, the more I found myself clinging closer to Charles. I liked the Colonel well enough, but I didn't like being told what to do."

"I think I can attest to that" Mr. Rochester said, but soon quieted, wishing for me to continue.

"I'm sure you can. As I said when you first met me, George didn't like the situation. Charles had no money, and several siblings. I had a very small fortune, but nothing to live upon as he would need. You see, he supported his family with the allowance from his uncle. His uncle did not know. The Colonel was not the only man pursuing me, there was another – a Mr. Cumberland, who was studying to be a clergyman, he will play into the story in a moment. Charles, after some time, asked me to marry him; but said he had to ask his uncle for his permission. Henceforth, I went to London, to seek the uncle's approval. I got along well with the old man, he seemed to tolerate me at the least. The day that Charles was to ask his uncle for permission, the uncle received a letter (I knew not what it said) but it somehow referred to me. When Charles then asked for permission, his uncle told him that he would prefer it if Charles was a cad, rather than have him marry me. Charles did not, at this time, tell me that his family depended upon him, and told me that his offer for my hand was rescinded. I returned to Northampton, heartbroken, and for the first time began accepting the advances of the Colonel."

"Six months expired, and Charles returned to visit his mother for the holidays. He came to visit once, and upon meeting me again sought my hand in marriage – this time suggesting we eloped. I was still in love with him, and heartily agreed. The date was set, and my things were packed and waiting. I was anxious, and looking forward to being Mrs. Charles Nelson."

"Charles, was indeed a cad, who (before he met me) had had lovers all around Northampton. He did all this, whilst pretending I was the only woman who met anything in his life. I found out later about this, which at that point didn't shock me. His conquests included wooing a rather rich girl, who had something akin to twenty-thousand pounds. She had discovered the idea, and had come to visit early in the morning. She told me that Charles had told her of me, and said that he had asked her to marry him as well. When I asked about the date, I was surprised to find it was the same time that he had taken me to London. I was horrified at the thought, but did not believe it, and therefore quickly resolved to find out the truth from Charles."

"I met him, on the day of the elopement, and began the journey to Gretna Green. All the while, I sat in the carriage, the words of Miss Wilson – forgive me, Mrs. Nelson – echoing in my ears. The carriage got stuck in the mud, and he gave me his coat to hold while he helped get it out of the mud. While holding it, I found a letter in the front pocket, written a day after he convinced me to elope with him, from Miss Wilson. It said that she knew of the elopement, and if he married me that she would publicly denounce him as the blackguard he was. When we were allowed the next stop, I inquired about the letter. He was shocked, and tried to stutter out an excuse. I then told him that she had stopped by Branhurst, and had told be beforehand. He adamantly told me that it was I that he loved, and that he only agreed to marry her out of obligation to his family, but that it meant nothing to him. Foolishly, I believed him, and we continued on our journey." I looked up to the heavens and sighed, "God forgive me, I believed him."

"Yet, you aren't married. . ." Mr. Rochester pointed out.

"Yes, I thank William, Richard, and Henry for that. Georgianna was privy to the information of my elopement, and the day of the journey she told William. He told Richard and Henry (who happened to be there that day) and the three of them set off to be at Gretna Green about the time that Charles and I stopped. Therefore, when I arrived, they greeted me. Charles was in a rage, he thought I was foolish for telling anyone. It would have been more foolish if I had not, I have realized, for if Georgianna didn't know, then I would be Mrs. Nelson to be sure – but there was more to his treachery than I understood then. They did not let it go on, and William challenge Charles to a duel. I would not allow it, and instead, let them take me back to Branhurst. They had found out from the uncle, that Charles was engaged to another woman in London. Her name was Jameson, and she was the daughter of a schoolfellow of the uncle. She had ten-thousand pounds. Her father broke off the engagement, quietly, and Mr. Nelson married Miss Wilson the following year."

"He was engaged to three women at once?" Mr. Rochester asked.

"Yes, but I thank my cousins that I was not the one to fall victim to his trap. I would have been devoted, but it was clear he would not have been. I was heartbroken for months, and fell very ill, almost to death. Mr. Cumberland, after hearing of the scandal, repented of his advances and withdrew them. I later found out that he had written the letter to Charles' uncle. The Colonel, well, he looked after me. He was still willing to marry me at that time, but I was unwilling to pollute his name with the scandal. He did not care, and asked for my hand in marriage. I almost accepted, except I found out that a friend of mine was in love with him. I then set out to make the match, and succeeded. A bittersweet ending for me, for within the next few months I applied to be a governess, and came here" I finished.

Mr. Rochester had been a most patient listener, and finally responded to it all. "Well, for a young girl, you had a rather turbulent life. Yet you spoke to him at the ball at Branhurst?"

"Yes, I did. I do not love him as I did. My eyes have been cleared of their disillusion, and all I see now is a fortune-hunting blackguard. Although my story is not even half as heartbreaking as your own, I can say I've had my fair-share of sorrow." I said.

"Indeed you have, but you do have some feeling for him." Mr. Rochester pointed out.

I smiled, "A girl cannot simply stop loving a man, even if he is proven to have the heart of a villain. I loved the sinner, and hated the sin. And yes, there is a part of my heart that still desires to be with him, but I have reasoned that it will only be there until my heart is given to another."

"And who will that other be?"

"Who am I to say?" I retorted.

Mr. Rochester smiled, "Indeed, wise answer Miss Allen." he said, finishing his coffee. "Wise and political. Although your heart may belong to someone who is quite close to you" he said cryptically.

"What do you mean?" I inquired.

He just looked at me, but his only answer was, "You will see. Shall we read Shakespeare today?"


	34. Chapter 34

Two days later, Mr. Rochester was told by Dr. Carter that he was allowed to leave his room. Adele was overjoyed, as she had been worried about Mr. Rochester as much as I. She had come to my room early in the morning, chattering about how she was excited to see Mr. Rochester again, and how she had been practicing her piano piece to perform for him. She asked when lessons would resume, and I told her that I had every intention of continuing her education within the next few days. She smiled, and said that Sophie had been giving her her schoolwork to accomplish while I was indisposed.

"Has she indeed?" I inquired needlessly, "And have you been doing it?"

"Oui, Mademoiselle, she insisted that we even go to the library. She said you would be proud of me if I read something on my own"

"Oh?" replied I, "And what did you read?"

Adele tilted her head, furrowing her brow "A story about two young women, whose father died, leaving them at the mercy of their step-brother. Oh! That wicked man, he left his sisters with nothing at all." she exclaimed.

"Austen" I concluded. "And what did you think of our great literary authoress? As good as Mrs. Radcliffe?"

Adele nodded, "Oui, I liked her very much Mademoiselle" she said enthusiastically. Her little face went somber, "Do you think that Monsieur Rochester will like to hear my new song on the piano?" she asked.

I smiled, her adoration of the man was adorable, if only he realized it. "If he does not think he does, then I shall convince him. But first, I must speak with Monsieur Rochester about another matter. Therefore, my dear Adele, I must request that you go downstairs and have some breakfast. I will join you presently" I said, ushering her out the door and down the stairs. She complied, and with a curtsy to rival Georgianna's, she did as bid.

I went to Mr. Rochester's room, as to inquire if he was going to breakfast, or whether he required breakfast upstairs. I knocked on his door, he bid me enter. "Ah, Molly, how are you this fine morning?" he asked.

"Very well, sir, at least I think I'm well." I replied, noticing that he was out of bed and dressed. I concluded that he had decided to eat downstairs today, but asked instead. "And are you eating up here, or downstairs today?" I queried.

He smiled, "We shall join Mrs. Fairfax and Adele, Miss Allen. And then you and I shall go for a walk in the garden" he replied, approaching me. He offered his arm, and we went downstairs.

* * *

To say the least, when we arrived in the dining room Adele instantly rushed to Mr. Rochester's side. "Oh, Monsieur Rochester, I am so glad to see you!" she exclaimed, "I was worried, along with Mademoiselle and Madame Fairfax, that you would not recover. I am happy to see you have. How are you?" she inquired in perfect English.

I watched my Master as a smile spread across his face, despite his grumbling about Adele's behavior, he seemed happy to see her as well.

"Of course I'm well. Whatever gave you and Mademoiselle the notion that I would be anything else?" he asked.

Adele's eyes looked at me, then back at him, "Why, because you were ill. Doctor Carter said that you had a very bad fever, he said anything was possible" the girl said.

Mr. Rochester raised a broad eyebrow, "Did he really?" his eyes went between Adele and myself. "Well, he is wrong – and to prove it, I shall go riding today. The weather is beautiful, and I"m sure that Mesrour is anxious for some activity." he declared.

"You shall do nothing of the kind" I corrected, "Doctor Carter said you are not to ride Mesrour until the day after tomorrow" then for good measure I added a "Sir" – indeed, the good doctor had told me so. 'You may take him out to the garden, but under no circumstances let him ride' he had said.

Mr. Rochester looked at me grimly, "The day after tomorrow?" he repeated, "Nonsense, I shall today"

"If you insist, sir, then your health lies on your head. I shall tell Dr. Carter you disobeyed his wishes, and I'm sure he will have a adequate way of dealing with you, as only a doctor can." I warned.

"And what makes you so sure that I shall fall ill again?" he inquired.

"I know illness, sir. It is not to be taken lightly" was my reply.

He stared long at me, his lips pursed in concentration – then he smiled, "Ah, very well. I don't want Carter breathing down my neck. Though, Miss Allen, don't think I shall ever forgive you for keeping me cooped up like a chicken." he said, sitting down.

"If you do not forgive me for caring for your wellbeing, then I shall take the consequences gladly. As for your being, as you have called it, 'cooped up' the good doctor did say you can go for a walk in the garden, for as long as you like – as long as you do not tire" I replied, taking my own seat to his right.

"Whatever makes you think I tire?" he asked.

I turned my gaze to his, "Are you saying, sir, that you do not sleep? Because I find that hard to believe" I jested, though humor could not be found in my voice.

Mr. Rochester and I stared at each other for a few moments longer, "Touché, Mademoiselle. Perhaps I should stop arguing with you, you always are ready with a quip." he commented.

I smiled, "Perhaps you should, sir, for in many ways we are alike. The foremost being: we are both incessantly stubborn." I replied.

He smiled, and turned to Adele, "So, I hear you have a tune you wish to play for me" he said, for I had mentioned it on the way down. She smiled and said yes, pestering him of when he would be willing to hear. He said that after breakfast, he would listen intently.

With that, we continued breakfast.

* * *

"You have done well with her" Mr. Rochester commented as we walked in the garden, "Her natural Parisian frivolity is subdued, no doubt as consequence to your natural English sensibleness."

I laughed, "I have never seen myself as very sensible" I replied, "Georgianna was the sensible one, I was always giving into my natural female sensibilities. As you know, they are not the same"

He smiled, "No, they are not. But you are sensible now, you are rational. Far too rational sometimes for my taste." he said.

"Ah, you are speaking of this aimless meandering around the garden" I said in jest.

"Precisely" was his reply.

"We are conversing, is that aimless?" I inquired.

"No, it all depends on your definition of conversation. You can have a conversation with a complete stranger, and it can be meaningful. Likewise, you can have a conversation with someone you have known since birth, and it is meaningless"

"And which am I?" I inquired.

He thought for a moment, albeit in a teasing manner. "It all depends on your mood. Sometimes you are the former, and sometimes the latter." he replied. I 'humphed' and said nothing in retort. "What are you thinking, Molly?" he asked.

"Nothing of importance, sir. I was considering Adele's concert" I replied.

He smiled, "Yes, you taught her her piano well. For once she wasn't singing a French song." he said, "That was a relief. She has enough of her mother in her, she needs balance"

"Indeed she does sir, I'm glad you approve" I replied. "I was hoping, sir, if I might be able to take Adele to Branhurst for Hetta's wedding. I believe she would love it there."

"I know she would adore your family's home, as would your cousins adore her. When is it? The wedding I mean" he inquired.

"Three weeks, although it was originally set for this month but it had to be postponed, so it will be in mid June." I answered.

"Why was it postponed?" he asked.

"Because I could not attend"

"And why was that?"

"Why, sir, I was taking care of you" I replied, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Mr. Rochester nodded, a 'Aha' look on his broad features. "Certainly you can take Adele. I shall probably do some more business in London within the next few weeks-"

"So soon?" I interrupted.

He looked down at me, for he was much taller, "Yes. I'm afraid it is imperative"

"You will not be doing the same thing as last time, will you?" I queried, remembering when he arrived at Branhurst unannounced.

"Why? Do you not want me to be there?"

"No! Sir, that is not what I meant-" I stopped realizing he was only teasing, as his lips were turned into a slight smile. "You are teasing me!" I exclaimed with a chuckle.

"I already knew what you meant, Molly, you don't need to explain yourself" he said, leading me to the bench and sitting down.

"Are you tired, sir?" I asked.

"Hmm? No, no I'm not. I simply wanted to stop and enjoy the scenery" he replied, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.

"Very well, sir" I replied, looking out. "It is a beautiful day"

For a few minutes we sat there, simply enjoying the silence and each other's company.

"Molly" he said.

"Yes, sir?" He leaned forward, and took my hand in his. I said nothing, and neither did he for quite some time. "What is it, Mr. Rochester?" I asked. His eyes looked into mine, and for the first time, I wondered if he could see my soul.

"Molly, I have known you for quite some time now. A year, is it? Yes, yes, a year, you agree with me, good. You know everything there is to know about me, and to be quite honest, I find myself quite – drawn to you –"

"Mr. Rochester-" I started to say.

"No, let me finish" he reprimanded, "I, have not been loved by many – and I am clearly aware that you care a great deal. When I was ill, you cared for me without complained or weary. You defended me when I was unable to defend myself. I find it so easy to talk to you, and you understand what I say, and are able to decipher even when I seem to be unable to explain myself completely. What I'm trying to say, Molly, is that I lo-"

"Sir, stop!" I insisted, taking my hand from his and standing abruptly. "Stop" I said quieter. Mr. Rochester looked at me with a puzzled expression, which then turned to disappointment. "Sir, if you are saying what I think you are about to say, then I must speak my mind" I told him.

"Oh? And what is it that you think I was going to say?" he asked.

"That you love me" I replied, "But I say you do not"

His brow furrowed, "Oh? And why is that?"

"Because you love another, sir. One whose place I could never fill in your heart." I replied, "If I dared to reciprocate this love, which I can say that I love you as a friend and nothing more, then I would feel so much as if I betrayed you. To make your heart betray itself would be the most dishonest thing I could do. I say honestly, from the bottom of my heart, sir that you do not love me! You may care for me a great deal, and love me as a family member, but I cannot say that you love me as a man loves a woman." I finished my monologue waiting for his response.

He looked into my eyes, "Why are you saying this? Betray my heart? Do you think that I am not aware of my heart?" he asked, his eyes aflame, "You say I love another, why? Have you not noticed my love for you? And who do you speak of so mysteriously Miss Allen?"

"You love the girl whose name you mutter in your sleep, whose person you talked to in your delirium when it was really I who stood before you. The girl whose name you whisper at the top of the stairs when you think no one can hear. The girl who still holds onto your heart, because she is the only one who will. I speak of Jane Eyre. You still love her, sir, I can see it. I will not allow you to betray your true feelings" I replied.

He stood and took my arms in his hands, "Yes, I loved her. I still love her, and I will always. But you, you are the one who brought me back when I stared at the deepest abyss of despair. When you came I was alone, and bordering on bitterness, the one thing I loved more than live itself snatched from my grasp! Then you came, and you were so much like her, yet so yourself in so many ways. For the first time, I wondered if it was possible to love two people. Yes! I love Jane, you are not ignorant to that. But I also love you!" he said.

"No, sir. You do not" I insisted quietly, "And I will not allow you to believe so. You love the fact that I have helped you sir, that I contradict you when I do not agree, that my friendship is concern for your wellbeing. It is but a shadow and a thought that you love, nothing more." I felt his hands release my arms, and he stepped a few paces back.

"Perhaps you are right, Miss Allen." he said, running a hand through his black mane of hair. "Forgive me for being so forward." with that he turned on his heel and marched back to the house. I heard the door slam and I collapsed on the bench, wishing I were a thousand miles away.

It was all that I hoped for, his declaration of love, and yet I had pushed him away. Why, Reader? Why did I do such a thing which my heart forbade? I knew not, a sense of justice and belief that I could bring his love back. Yet, he loved me, I could have all I wanted, all I desired. A marvelous man who would love me and care for me for all eternity.

Sobs racked my body, had I destroyed all friendship with him? No, I reasoned, it was for the best. Yet, I still wished that I could have disappeared. I loved him, and because I loved him I did as my mind commanded. Still, I could not reconcile my mind and my heart. Love had been handed to me, and I pushed it away.

With that thought I wept bitterly, wondering if there would ever be comfort for my aching heart.


	35. Chapter 35

The next day I awoke, half-hoping that the previous afternoon had been nothing but a dream. Alas, I had woken with the very present thought in my mind that I had been a fool. Here God had handed me a prince among men, and I had followed my head not my heart – yet it was the best thing to do, I reasoned.

To say the least, I was miserable. I did not go down to breakfast, instead sending word to Mrs. Fairfax that I was ill. She knew nothing of Mr. Rochester's proposal, to my knowledge, and therefore sent word through Leah asking if I needed a doctor. I replied that I did not, for I did not – unless of course Dr. Carter had a remedy for a broken heart. I was grateful for her warmth, and remained upstairs for the rest of the day. I concluded that Mr. Rochester would know of my mysterious illness' cause, yet I could not face him.

The day after that, I dilly-dallied at my looking glass, wondering just why I was blessed with beauty. I would have preferred being plain, for my beauty had given me too much confidence to speak my mind; which was now only harmful as I had unwittingly captured fancies that should have stayed away. Charles was only after my beauty, and was in truth a cad; Mr. Rochester was intrigued by my mind, yet his heart was already taken. Perhaps I was cursed by being well-born and intelligent, for twice I had fallen in love – only to find love wanting.

I descended the stairs, finally prepared to face the master of Thornfield without any awkwardness on my behalf. I sincerely doubted that Mr. Rochester would be very concerned, instead I expected his cold mask of indifference to have slipped back into place. Not that I could blame him.

When I arrived in the dining room, Mrs. Fairfax greeted me.

"Molly! I'm so glad you are doing well, you had me worried that perhaps you had fallen ill from your nurturing of Mr. Rochester. You are well?" she asked concernedly.

"Yes, Mrs. Fairfax, I am very well, thank you" I replied, physically I was.

"Are you sure, dear? You're pale, and your eyes seem hollow, did you not sleep well?" her worry was comforting, like a mother fretting over her children. No, I had not slept well, but she did not need to know that.

"I slept very well, thank you Mrs. Fairfax." it was then that I noticed that Mr. Rochester was absent from the head of the table. "Is Mr. Rochester not going to join us this morning?" I asked. She turned around, looking at the place where my eyes had settled.

"Oh! No, he went early this morning to Millcote, he said he had some business to attend to. Adele is waiting for you in the library, however, for she ate with him. I'll tell you this, he was very cross, more at odds with himself than I have ever seen him. I don't know why, of course, perhaps he got some bad news from London." she said the last bit to herself more than to me. My mind wandered, I knew why he was at odds, and 'cross'. The sooner I found Jane Eyre, the better. "Oh, but surely you're hungry, dear. Come, eat something" she ushered me to the table, and quickly got me a plate.

"Mrs. Fairfax, I'm not that hungry" I told her, but she shushed me, telling me that I needed to eat, for she was 'Sure I wasn't looking that well at all.' I obeyed, and after finishing informed Mrs. Fairfax that I would go to see Adele.

"Very well, child, I'm sure that the girl will be glad to see you. She was worried all yesterday, she even began to ask the Master if he knew what was wrong." the old woman said.

"What did the Master say?" I inquired.

"Nothing much, he said that 'women were flighty in their fancies' or something of that nature. 'Likely to develop a headache as a means of escaping a situation which they find not to their liking.' Honestly I can't say that's true, but he soon stopped talking and ordered Adele not to speak of you" she answered, clearing away my plate.

"He should not have done that" I said softly.

"I think he was worried about you as well, but he is a man who does not show his feelings very well" she said in a comforting way. Oh, how I wanted to tell her that it was not his worry, but because he knew that I was avoiding him. But then I would have to explain why I was avoiding him, I wanted to make her my confidante, as I had done with my Aunt – instead I smiled, and said 'That perhaps that was it, but I should go see Adele'

"Very well, dearest, I'll see you at luncheon." her cheery attitude was uplifting, yet all I could do was smile slightly and leave the room.

* * *

"Mademoiselle!" Adele called, running across the room to the doorframe where I was standing. She quickly clung to my side, "I was so worried about you! Madame Fairfax told me you were ill, are you alright now? I was so afraid, you would not get better. I hope you are, for I do not want you to be ill. You must promise not to get ill, Mademoiselle – mon Dieu, I could not bear it if you did." she said hurriedly, I smiled and placed my hand on her little face.

"I am perfectly well, darling, you need not fear." I comforted, and she smiled, pulling my head down her level she gave me a kiss on the cheek. She really was a darling, if dealt with correctly. "Come, what have you learned as of late?" I inquired.

She then proceeded to show off her newfound knowledge of Shakespeare, Chaucer, Scott, Byron, the globes, and her latest in arithmetic. I was happy for her; she had improved, as Mr. Rochester had said, and was now speaking English as clear as any French girl can. English with an accent of Paris interlaced, very charming.

We continued our lessons, and by luncheon I had almost forgot of my troubles. Mr. Rochester was once more not there, which left my feelings in constant anxiety – the time would come when neither of us could avoid each other, it was a certainty. But for now, I contented myself with eating in silence. Well, as much silence as could be attained with Adele in the room, for her happy childish laughter was the only warm thing in the room. I couldn't help but smile, her ignorance a haven in my tempestuous mind.

* * *

Another few days passed, Mr. Rochester and I playing a game of avoidance. He would eat early, and go out; whilst I took my time in getting ready so as to make sure he ate before I came down. At luncheon, he was again absent but once – which time I said I was not hungry and went for a walk. Dinnertime came, but Mr. Rochester would have his served in his study; Mrs. Fairfax curious to his odd behavior, but shrugging off that it must be his business in London. Business indeed!

I must admit, Reader, that after a week passed in this manner, I got impatient. I wished to have a discussion with him, and finally began coming down at my usual hour. He would absent, leaving Mrs. Fairfax to make excuses for him.

It was a week-and-a-half after his proposal that he sent Leah to call me to his study, timidly I left the schoolroom (which had also been my sanctuary) and went down the hall to the thick oak door that I entered such a long time before, when I was just a governess. Before I had been exposed to all the secrets my master held in his heart, before I found myself intrigued, before I had destroyed all hope of even a friendship with him. I knocked, and was once more greeted by his booming 'Come in'. I did as ordered, and opened the door.

He was sitting at his chair, as he used to, his back facing toward me. "You sent for me, sir?" I spoke, surprised that my voice didn't waver.

His head craned around the chair, as he looked at me. "Well? What are you doing there? Come here! Do you think I can see you if you're behind me? I have no intention of staying in this position for the duration of our conversation." he barked.

I approached the chair, and stood in front of him, my eyes unable to look at his face. "I was unaware that I called you here to have a conference with the rug." Mr. Rochester stated, obviously telling me to look up, I obeyed, finding myself then unable to tear my gaze from his. He motioned to the chair, and I sat down.

"You called for me?" I said meekly.

I shall not lie, Reader, I missed him. I almost wished that I had not avoided him, for it was now that I realized that it had pained me not to see him.

"Yes, Miss Allen" he said, returning to the formality of my last name. "A fortnight ago, we spoke of Adele accompanying you to Branhurst for Miss Polk's wedding."

"Yes, we did." I replied, finding my voice, "I was going to ask you sometime today about that."

"Were you? Well, it seems that we think on the same level. Do you still wish to take Adele with you?" he inquired, I had not expected it, in fact I thought that he would not allow it now.

"I had hoped that perchance she might be able to come with me. But I was unsure, after –" I could not finish.

"After what transpired between us." Mr. Rochester finished, "You were afraid that I would not allow her to go with you" he stated, I could not help but nod as it was true. "Do you think me such an ogre that I would not allow Adele to go to your family?" he asked quietly.

"I do not have that opinion of you. However, I did not think that you would allow Adele to go with me" I replied.

"Are you still in my employ?"

"Yes, I am"

"And are you not still Adele's teacher, and governess?"

"I am, sir." his eyes looked at the fire, so as to calm himself.

"Then why, Miss Allen, did you believe that I would not allow you to take her? I have trusted her with you this far." his tone was laced with pain.

"Indeed you did, sir. I simply –"

" – Did not believe that I would allow it despite the fact that honest truth is against you. Because of the fact that I asked you to marry me, and you refused. That is the reason you have avoided me ever since" ah, so we arrived at where he truly wished to speak.

"Yes, sir, I have avoided you. I will not deny that, who could not knowing what happened? Anyone would wish to avoid such a confrontation" I replied.

"So I gathered. I never knew that you were cowardly." he spat, but his eyes seemed to regret his words as he realized that he had cut deeply. But I would not show it, in fact, I kept my composure and answered thusly:

"Yes, sir, I am a coward. To do as I have done for the last few days is unforgivable. I am sorry that I acted like a coward, I at the time deemed it necessary to avoid you." he sank back into his chair.

"Why did you avoid me?" he asked at length, "Pretended you were ill, sending Adele into hysteria, for what? Because you couldn't look me in the eyes after I confessed my love for you. Am I really that much of a monster that you believed that I would cause a scene?"

"Monster sir?" I repeated, "You are no monster, and I have never considered you as one."

"Yet, you looked at me with such a pained expression. Indeed, you still look at me like that. As if you cannot be in my presence smiles are gone, your laughter has been silenced, the mirth has gone out of your eyes, and the warmth is no longer in your cheeks. Nay, you look pale. Do I disgust you to that degree? That I would love one woman, and look for love in another?" he asked, his vulnerability was heartbreaking.

"Sir – " I tried, seeing him flinch at the formality, I changed my address: "Mr. Rochester, I do not look at you with a pained expression because I do not desire to see you – quite the opposite. I am not disgusted with anyone but myself, I knew that you loved another, and yet I acted in such a way as would intrigue you further. I loved you despite myself -"

"If you love me then why do you bring me agony?" Mr. Rochester inquired quietly, leaning forward toward me. "Why did you reject the one thing that could make me happy? Perhaps you have finally realized my ugliness."

"It has nothing to do with that, sir. I do not think you plain, it is not your face that makes you handsome – for beauty is in the eye of the beholder. If you had scars on your face, and a lazy eye, I would still love you. You could look like Pilot and I would not care. It is not because of that, it is because I am not the one that would make you happy. I would not be able to relieve your agony if I tried. Do you truly believe that in marrying me you would truly be at peace? You would marry a girl you liked well enough, but did not love as dearly as Jane Eyre. We would be comfortable enough, I suppose, but something would always be lacking. I would not cause you to suffer that, nor I. For I would always know the truth, but be trying to avoid it at every turn. Eventually we would both have to admit that there was something about our love that was a lie. I could not make you endure such a thing, not for the satisfaction of my selfishness" I replied.

"I would love you as dearly as I loved her -" he tried to tell me.

"No, you would not." I said simply, "You would not because I am not her. From what I have heard, your relationship with her was extraordinary. Not one in a thousand can be that happy, yet you were. Forgive me, sir, but I would not change that for the world."

"So, are you telling me that had there been no Jane Eyre, you would not have refused my proposal?" he inquired softly.

I smiled, indeed for I had considered this. "Yes. For if you had met me, before Jane Eyre had ever come in your life, I would have married you without a second thought. Mind you, your current wife might have been a small issue. I would have loved you until my death or yours, and whichever of us died first, I would look forward to seeing you in heaven. But, I know there is another who will rejoice at seeing you there, who will love you there as she does here. And I will not come between that" I answered him.

"And this is the reason you refused? Because you believe that the love that Jane and I shared cannot be compared with?" his tone was incredulous, but it was the truth nonetheless.

"Yes, sir. That is my reason." I replied.

He was silent, then stood abruptly, walking over to his desk. He opened a drawer, pulled out an envelope and handed it to me. "Your funds for your journey, you shall take Adele with you." he said, surprising me.

I stood, taking the envelope and placing it in my pocket, "Thank you, sir." I said, extending my hand to shake his. His gaze went to my hand then back to my face, he placed his hand inside of mine. "I hope we can remain friends, sir" I said.

He smiled, "Friends?" he chuckled, "Yes, I suppose we can remain that" he released my hand with a sigh, and told me to go. "You should send a letter to your family telling them that you will be there within the next few days. I wouldn't want Hetta being cross with you for not postponing her wedding twice. You will take my carriage, and return in it." he said, "Go."

I curtsied, and left the room. When I told Adele she was ecstatic, dancing around the room like a sparrow in flight. She immediately went to tell Sophie, and I opened the envelope that Mr. Rochester had given me. It contained 50£, much to my chagrin, and a letter. Cautiously, I opened the letter – it was dated to three days ago.

"_May 20th, 1849_

_Dear Miss Allen,_

_I will not write of the feelings which you so blatantly refused last week, I do not wish to give you more pain – nor I in the thought. I am writing this to inform you that Adele shall still accompany you, as I believe that your family will be a good influence on her. I am enclosing 50£ for your journey, please do not reprimand me, telling me that it is something that I do not owe. If you wish, consider the extra sum for Adele. She will, no doubt, require such. Do not fear, I will not arrive at your cousin's wedding, as I do not think that you would like to explain why you would avoid me. Nevertheless, give my regards to them, and Godspeed._

_Yours respectfully,_

_Edward Rochester"_

I felt as if I would cry. He had written this while still wondering why I had refused him. Yet, he still cared about my traveling, and my request to have Adele come with me. He knew me so well, knowing I would reprimand him on the money, and teasing in his own way. Jane Eyre was a fortunate girl to get a man like Edward Rochester.

Remembering his orders, I wrote Georgianna, writing of the new developments and telling her I would arrive on the 27th. I also enclosed a letter to Richard, I needed to know what he had found out since the last time I had written. If he had found anything else about Miss Eyre, if perhaps I could find her.

I needed to know where she was, while my resolve was still intact.


	36. Chapter 36

The next morning Adele and I were out of the house by 9 o'clock, the little girl anxious to go to Branhurst; and only pausing long enough to say goodbye to Mr. Rochester before she ran out of the door and into the waiting carriage. Yes, Reader, he had come down to breakfast to wish us 'godspeed' and to speak of how long we were to stay. He allowed us two weeks. After which, we were required to return. "I can't bear to be without the both of you for too long." he had said, then left the dining room to allow us to say goodbye to Mrs. Fairfax as Sophie was coming with us.

"I'll be lonesome without you dearest," Mrs. Fairfax told me, pulling her shawl around her body for some warmth. I smiled an embraced her as I would Ms. Gold – she had indeed become like family to me, and it was a shame that she could not accompany us. But alas, she was the housekeeper, and I dared not even utter such a suggestion.

We left after our 'farewells', Adele watching with glee as we drove away from Thornfield. "Oh, Mademoiselle, it has been so long since I saw the outside of the great house. It is magnificent, isn't it?" she asked in French, I smiled and told her that it was. "Is it anything like Branhurst?" I laughed.

"Like Branhurst? No, no I would say that Thornfield is more grand than Branhurst Hall. But more lively, is the home of my youth." I replied, she beamed and said that she could not wait to get there. Indeed, neither could I. With one last fleeting glance, I looked at the small Hall on the hill as it disappeared.

A part of me wished that Mr. Rochester would surprise me again, coming to Branhurst unannounced for Hetta's wedding. But, I did not dwell on the thought, and instead took to speaking with Sophie and Adele.

* * *

The trip to Branhurst was lively enough, with Adele's chatter, and Sophie's happy indulgences of the child. I read aloud, much as I had to Mr. Rochester on our last trip, and we discussed the topic of the book. Adele was now an enthusiast for Austen, while Sophie could understand the complexities of Shakespeare. All in all, I would say that it was a pleasant trip. But nothing was more pleasant than, after three days of travel, we found ourselves looking upon the familiar rolling hills of the estate of Branhurst.

"Mademoiselle! Mademoiselle!" Adele began to cheer happily, "It is Branhurst, is it not Mademoiselle? Ah, it is so beautiful – Oh la la! It is exactly as you described it! Dis-moi, are all the ladies at Branhurst?" she the proceeded to ask.

"Yes, Adele. They are all here for Hetta's wedding, and you will meet them. Georgianna is especially enthused to meet you." I replied. She smiled once more, as widely as I had ever seen – not even her presents from Mr. Rochester had her this excited.

The carriage rolled up to the front door, the greeting party already gathered, and stopped. The door opened, and I was helped from the carriage by George.

"Molly!" he exclaimed, "It has only been six months, and you would not believe how much we have missed you." his smile was broad as I kissed his cheek.

"I can believe it, for my anxiety to return was in seeing you. My dear brother, you have grown some more – I suppose I shouldn't be surprised." I replied, moving on to my Aunt.

"Molly, dear Molly. So you have returned to us again! Mr. Rochester must be very fond of you to let you come and see us so often." she surmised.

"Fond? Yes, I would say he's fond of me." I replied, to say only 'fond' was an understatement. Fondness was more what he felt for Mesrour, not I. "At any rate, he likes you well enough. He has allowed his ward, my charge, to come with me this time." I turned to see Adele curtsying to my brother. Her little smile well in place. He had, apparently, helped her from the carriage.

"So you are George?" I heard her say, my brother laughed.

"Yes, you must be Adele. My sister has spoken often of you, she says you're a little angel when you want to be." he replied in teasing.

Adele blushed and ducked her head, a very French thing to do. Oh dear, Mr. Rochester would not have been pleased with her behavior. "Adele" I called her to me, she curtsied again to my brother – he bowed – and she made her way to my side.

"Oui, Mademoiselle?" she asked. I petted her hair, turning to my Aunt and cousins.

"Aunt Fanny, allow me to introduce my charge. Adele Varens." to her credit, Adele politely said that she was pleased to meet them, her happiness still beaming from her face.

"Well, Adele, I hope you will like it here at Branhurst Hall" Aunt Fanny said, placing a motherly hand on the French girl's shoulder.

"I am sure I will, Madame Palk," (for she had a hard time speaking the word 'Polk' but I was sure that she would do better as time went on.) "Mademoiselle has spoken much of you." Adele went on.

Aunt Fanny laughed, "Oh my dear, you are quite an adorable little girl. But you must call me Aunt Fanny." she told my little charge.

Adele smiled widely, quickly trying the term. Aunt Fanny smiled and laughed, it was as if another member of the family had been added.

"And this is my cousin, Mademoiselle Georgianna Polk." I introduced as Georgianna came outside, Adele curtsied again, the smile still on her face.

"She is very personable isn't she?" George asked from behind me. I smiled and turned to him.

"Yes, she is." I answered, "What do you think of her?"

George chuckled, "She is marvelous. She may be the only French girl I like." he replied, I smiled and thought of the last Frenchwoman he had met – Lorraine, she had been called – to say the least, George was more that irate with her by the end of the acquaintance. But it seemed that the French were redeemed in my brother's eyes through my charge.

We went inside, and Hetta was introduced to Adele via my aunt. Georgianna embraced me, "She is quite the little charmer isn't she? Adorable. I'm so glad you brought her." Georgianna said, "I just got your letter yesterday morning, to say the least, I am surprised that you came so soon." she told me.

"I'm not." I replied, "Hetta would never forgive me if I missed her wedding by even a day." I watched as Adele then introduced Sophie to the rest of the family, the young Frenchwoman was embraced as equally as Adele had been by my aunt. It truly was a good thing to see.

"You're right, I never would." Hetta told me as Adele was introduced to Richard and William. "I'm glad you're here Molly, otherwise Georgia would have to be the only bridesmaid." we chuckled, at Georgianna said that 'She would have been able to handle such a responsibility.'

"Where is Anne and Eliza?" I asked, for my sisters were supposed to be there for Hetta's wedding as well.

"They're here, but they went to Northampton. They did not expect you so early, and Anne said she wished to visit one of the new shops in town. Harvey is here though, I believe that he is outside with Campbell and Winifred." George answered, "But Anne is different. Peter Danton came to visit yesterday, and she didn't even give him half of the attention that she gave him last Christmas." his tone was confused, and slightly annoyed at our sister's behavior.

I knew why that was, that Anne was so indifferent to poor Peter. Remember Reader, Anne had told me that she was in love with a young man who my Aunt and Uncle in Nottingham would not approve of. George however was not privy to such information, therefore he was under the impression that she was too much of a flirt. I had to admit, at one point in time I probably thought the same.

"Is Mr. Rochester coming this time, Molly?" George asked.

His question caught me off guard, but I could not answer, "I don't know." I replied, "He did not tell me whether he was or wasn't." George nodded, but was still somewhat confused.

"Molly!" William called to me, embracing me in a brotherly fashion, "My dear Molly. Its so good to see you. I hope that you intend to return to Branhurst when your charge gets too old for you. We have missed you, and I would hate for you to live so far away forever." he told me, I couldn't help but smile.

"My dearest William, believe me when I say I missed you." I told him as Richard approached.

"Molly." he greeted, giving William a look that made him nod and walk away.

"Richard." I replied in the same manner.

"I have some information on your predecessor when you want it." he told me, "For I have found Miss Eyre. Remind me later." I nodded, I had known that Richard would help me. But it seems that I had underestimated him in one way or another.

"Thank you Richard, I shall. Tomorrow perhaps?" he agreed.

"Molly, we should go into the parlor. Barbara has some tea waiting for us." Aunt Fanny said, Adele clinging to her side. We all agreed that it would be a good idea to have some tea, and we went on to the parlor.

I was happy to see that Adele was so easily embraced by my Aunt, and that the girl was clinging to her as a young child would with a mother. I was not surprised, Reader, for I remembered that I was the same at that age. Aunt Fanny simply had the warmness and gentleness that a mother would have, making her the perfect person for a motherless child to go to. Indeed, Adele was motherless, and I knew I would never be able to fill that role to completeness.

Miss Gold stood as we entered the parlor, embracing me warmly. "Molly, did you have a pleasant journey?" she asked.

"Yes, very. Adele, this is Mademoiselle Gold." I introduced the girl to my governess.

"Bonjour Mademoiselle." Adele curtsied.

"Bonjour Mademoiselle Varens. Comment allez-vous?" Miss Gold asked the girl.

"Trés bien, merci Mademoiselle." Adele replied, introducing Sophie to Miss Gold. We then sat down hot tea soon in our hands.

"How have you been Miss Gold?" I asked, noting the color of her cheeks, and her twinkling eyes.

"More than well, Molly." she said, her voice filled with excitement.

"What is it?" I inquired. She looked at my Aunt, as she was enraptured with Adele, along with my cousins.

"You will not be calling me Miss Gold for very long, Molly." she began, I was sure that my face displayed my confusion. "Squire Quincy came calling this morning, he just left as you came in." she said, "He has asked for my hand in marriage." her voice elated with happiness as she told me. Indeed, for I was not surprised – let the Reader recall the moments that I had observed of constant conversation between my old governess and the Squire.

"Miss Gold." I said with a smile, "Would it surprise you if I told you that I have been expecting such news since Christmas?" I inquired.

She looked at me in shocked eyes, "You knew? No, I suppose that should not surprise me. You always were observant." she told me, taking my hand. "Oh, dearest Molly. Hetta will marry, Georgianna I am sure will marry Dr. Hart soon, Anne I believe has an admirer who she is not speaking of. Can I say that Branhurst will be the house of happiness and love?" she asked.

I laughed, "Of course you may. But I must admit to jealousy, Miss Gold. For I have no _amante – _as Adele would say." I replied in a teasing manner.

"You will soon, no doubt. I am sure of it. You were not born a beauty for no reason." Miss Gold told me with a pat on the let.

I couldn't help but smile. She was encouraging, but I couldn't be so sure.


	37. Chapter 37

That evening after dinner, I met with Richard, most anxious for his news in regards to the elusive Miss Eyre. At the window seat, we found ourselves, though I would have preferred the outdoors – alas, my charge wished for us all to be in the drawing room. 'I wish to play for you,' she had said, 'And Mademoiselle must remain.' thus I remained, my voice no louder than a hushed whisper.

"What have you found out, Richard?" I inquired, watching with interest as he fiddled in his coat pocket, retrieving a letter.

"She is living somewhere on the Moors, under a different name. Don't ask how I acquired the information, it is of little importance." my cousin told me, opening the letter, "I don't know why you wish to know, Molly, I wish you would tell me." he said.

I smiled, wishing that I could have told him – alas, it was not my place. "It is of little importance, I need to find her, that is all you need to know." I replied, my heart aching from the wish and desire to tell him all. Richard had always been a kind soul, and most accepting of whatever I had to say. However, twas not my place, and I dared not tell. "What did you find out?" I asked once more.

"Jane Elliott." Richard replied, "She has been using that name for the last year. She's living with a –" he looked at the paper, "St. John Rivers. Alas, that is all I know."

"Jane Elliott?" I repeated, "Why would she not tell her true name?" I asked, my cousin shrugged.

"Don't ask me" he told me, "I wouldn't be able to tell you."

I was grateful for the information, however small it was. It gave me hope, and that was worth it all. "Thank you, Richard. I'm sorry to have inconvenienced you." I apologized, for I truly understood the hardship of finding such information.

Richard smiled widely, "Its not inconvenience, Molly. I'm glad I could be of service." he replied as we heard Adele begin to tinker on the pianoforte.

Soon enough, Chopin's 4th Nocturne came pouring out from beneath her fingers. My heart elated with pride, only wishing that Mr. Rochester had had the chance to hear her. Indeed, I wished he were there – if for no other reason than to hear what I had found. However, I was unaware of just how my employer would react. Would he have been angry with me for trying to pry? Or would he go there himself? I knew not, but my mind had questions which could not have been answered.

The Nocturne ended, George was more than willing to play a saucy tune for Adele to learn. Vive la Compagnie – I believe it was called. To say the least, I was less than happy with his selection, but Aunt Fanny told me not to worry. 'He's just trying to be friendly Molly.'

Nevertheless, I managed to catch Richard's eye, he nodded in understanding and spoke to George. With a blush, my brother managed to get Adele away from the drinking song, and soon, the beginning keys of 'The Parting Glass' filled the room. Once more I caught Richard's eye, and smiled in gratitude. He chuckled, as if to say 'Don't worry about it.'

The laughter of the house warmed my soul, but the coldness of the determination which I had to find Ms. Eyre only saddened me. The Moors were not a safe place, and I knew that I would most likely have to wait to find her until I returned to Thornfield. Even then, I was unsure of how to find her without arousing suspicion.

Applause distracted me for only a moment, George and Adele bowing in thanks for the household's approval. I smiled, noting with interest my brother's attentions to my young charge. He had always been the youngest, for once he enjoyed being the elder.

The clock chimed eleven times, informing me that it was past Adele's bedtime. If Mr. Rochester was here, no doubt he would not approve. "Adele." I called, "Its time for bed, my dear."

"But must I go?" Adele asked, "I was having so much fun."

"Its eleven o'clock, Adele. What would Mr. Rochester say if he were here?" I asked, knowing that she wanted above all to do as he would want her.

"Alright, I'll go quietly." she said, turning to my family and saying her goodnight's personally.

My brother was more attentive to her than I would have expected, quickly promising her that he would take her riding the next day if she woke early enough. With a look of request toward me, which I approved, she promised she would see him early, and happily skipped to bed.

After prayers, she was snugly where she ought to have been, sleepy soundly. I smiled as I watched her for a moment, and then silently slipped out.

* * *

Georgianna was still awake when I knocked on her door. I needed to speak with her, mostly about my conflict in regards to Mr. Rochester.

"Molly?" Georgianna greeted at the open door, "What are you doing here?"

"I needed to speak with you, do you mind?" I asked, she shook her head and opened the door wider.

"What's on your mind, Molly?" my cousin inquired, lighting a few more candles.

"What would you say if I were to tell you that I was proposed to, and declined?" I queried, not quite sure how to word what I really wished to say. I had concluded that being obvious was the best way to address the situation. She paused, her mind seemingly searching for who I was referring to. Apparently she came up with an answer – and it was the right one, to my surprise.

"Mr. Rochester?" she asked. I nodded deftly, "I would have to wonder why you declined, but I'm sure you had a good reason." she answered my previous question.

"How did you know?" I asked.

"It was obvious." she replied, "I think at the ball was when I could truly say that I thought he might propose. When he saved you from dancing with Nelson."

"That was hardly grounds for a proposal, Georgia, he was just being chivalrous." I defended.

"That kind of chivalry only belongs to a man who has intent." she replied wisely, as if she was now Cupid, and knew all about matters of the heart. "Although you have liked an uglier person."

I was quick to defend him, telling her that I had never considered looks to be of consequence.

"No?" she challenged, "I doubt that a pretty girl like you would think that."

"Do you really think me so shallow?" I inquired, she was quick to shake her head.

"No, never. I tease you cousin." she replied, "However, I doubt you came here to discuss your personal tastes. Why did you decline him?"

I then launched into the story that I had found out about Miss Eyre, leaving out only the details which I was not at liberty to divulge. Indeed, I spoke for the better part of an hour as I described my curiosity at Jane Eyre's door, my consequent trust that Mr. Rochester kept me in the dark for a reason, Mr. Rochester's illness, and Bertha's appearance – albeit avoiding the topic of just who Bertha was. 'One of the Rochesters, who Mr. Rochester had not the heart to admit to an asylum.' I instead informed, carefully wording so as to avoid any alluding to a wife. He wouldn't want that, I knew.

"... and so, in light of the previous events, Mr. Rochester told me he loved me, and wanted me to be his wife. I couldn't do it, I refused him most cruelly. And then I avoided him for a week, although my heart and my head were at odds – my heart yearning for such a love as his; my head reminding me he loved another. Finally I had the courage to see him – he was so hurt. Can I ever forgive mysef? Oh Georgia, was I wrong? Have I betrayed myself so much? Will I never be happy?" I asked her my heart clenching at my sorry state. I knew she would have no answer to my everlasting questions. How could she? She loved someone who never had another love before her, a man whose heart was hers and hers alone, and aways had been. No one who cared for me, knew the depth of my sorrow.

It seemed she understood that, and for a moment was silent. "No, Molly, I can't say you were wrong." she finally said after an eternity, "You followed your head, which I must commend you on, for that was your weakness in the past."

"If it such a good thing, then why am I so miserable?" I asked her with honesty, "Why do I feel so hollow and empty?"

She had no answer, but could only look at me in pity. "Do you believe you'll never be happy?" she asked in return.

I scoffed, "I know not." for I didn't, all which my mind had always known and depended upon was disregarded. A special case, Mr. Rochester was. I knew not what to do because in this matter my heart and my mind struggled for dominance. My mind had won, but my losing heart felt betrayed. Was I meant to be happy? Or was I meant to view all those around me, and their happiness, while only feeling fleeting glimpses myself?

"Miss Barbara would tell you that you were meant to be with someone." Georgianna started saying, "Maybe she's right? But perhaps it is these miserable instances which will make you perfect for your last love?" I breathed a laugh, she was trying to help, but I wasn't so sure it was comforting enough. Nothing would be really. "Do you love him?" she asked me, the sincerity in her eyes pleading with me to answer her honestly, nothing barred.

How to answer, Reader, was the question in my mind? For which could answer, my head or heart? However, ever the diplomat, I contemplated the question carefully, and answered calmly.

"I know not whether it is the love I would feel for a man who God has predestined as my soulmate. I dare not attempt to believe that. I love him as a friend, and I want only the best for him. I know that he is not my soulmate, because of what I know of his love for Miss Eyre. I would not want to steal that from him, replacing it with nothing more than a counterfeit." I answered.

"But do you love him? Would you be happy with him if you had accepted?" Georgianna asked a little more clearly.

"Yes, and no." I replied, "I do not think I'd love as I should, and we wouldn't be happy long – if ever. Miss Eyre is who he is destined to be with. He met her long before he met me, and he loved her. To even believe that I would be anything more – would be in vain."

"Always resignation and acceptance. Always prudence and honor and duty. Logic rules you, your head you follow, not your heart. And perhaps you're right, perhaps we should not follow our hearts. But Molly, if you love him, then won't you be just as miserable?" she asked me.

"I don't know." I replied, "I don't know."

The conversation ended relatively quickly afterwards, the clock making it clear that it was nearing one o'clock. That night I was unable to sleep. My only comfort was that Jane Eyre was somewhere on the Moors... I only hoped she would be willing to listen to me as I persuaded her to return to my master.

If I failed, I was sure that my heart would break – for I would have given up love, when it could have been my own.

And with that thought, I fell asleep, my dreams haunted by Bertha Rochester – lighting Thornfield on fire. The sounds of screaming coming from inside the marvelous house.

* * *

A walk sounded good when the sun crept above the horizon the next morning. I hadn't slept well, and I needed to clear my head a bit – with caution, I went downstairs, not at all surprised to find the house completely silent. It wouldn't be long, I was sure, before the household awoke to the new day, but for now I wanted time to myself. With deliberation I went outside, slightly shivering from the morning air. Nevertheless, it was a pleasant thing. The walk refreshed me to be sure, allowing me to think without interruptions.

Firstly there was the new development regarding Jane Eyre, there was the matter of how to find her. To be sure, I knew where she was staying, but how would I tell her what I wished – how would I convince her to return to Mr. Rochester?

Secondly, there was the matter of getting there without alerting Mr. Rochester. My reasoning being that: if she decided not to return, then for him to know that I had seen her would only hurt him more. Yet, the consequence of not telling him – if he found out on his own – would only strain the friendship cord which was about to break already.

Thirdly, if and when she returned, where would that leave me? Adele would no longer need a governess, as the new Mrs. Rochester would be a more than adequate teacher. Indeed, for Miss Eyre would not need my services. That would mean I would need to consider the future.

By the time I had finished my walk, my contemplations finishing in my head, the household of Branhurst was already up and about. I was suddenly surprised by the amount of shuffling the servants seemed to be doing.

"Mademoiselle Marie!" Adele exclaimed, announcing my arrival into the dining room. She quickly left her chair to embrace me, momentarily forgetting her manners.

"Good morning Adele, did you sleep well?" I inquired, ignoring her momentary lapse of judgment.

"Quite well. Merci, Mademoiselle. George took me riding while you were on your walk..." she then proceeded to tell me how she had admired the horses, and how well George rode "But did you hear? We are going to London!" she suddenly exclaimed.

"London?" I repeated incredulously, looking to my family with a dubious glance.

It was Richard who spoke: "Ah yes, Molly, Hetta has decided that she wishes to go to Town for the day. Something about last minute shopping."

"I only wish to make sure that everything is going smoothly," Henrietta replied tersely, "And I concluded that we could all could go. A family outing for the day"

"Except mother and I" Richard retorted, "I have some letters to write, and I'm sure the trip to town wouldn't agree with her."

"You're quite right, Richard." my aunt replied, "But the other children could go in. Adele, I'm sure, would love to see London."

"Oh, oui Madame Polk" the child said wistfully.

I sighed, I had never liked London – twas the bane of my existence in my opinion. What with the crowded streets, the general noise, and the people's haughtiness. To say the least, I have always disliked the place. Besides, Charles had once taken me to London –

"What do you think Molly?" Miss Gold asked, brining my thoughts out of my reverie of London.

"You will come, oui?" Adele added, her little eyes pleading so hopeful. "It would not be the same if you did not, Mademoiselle."

Biting back my dislike for the place, and seeing that Adele was so enthusiastic, I reluctanty agreed. A cheer went around the room, and it was settled that after breakfast we would set off.

* * *

By the time we reached London, it was time for luncheon. To say the least, the trip to town was crowded, six people in a carriage – it was bound to be quite hellish. There was Henrietta, Georgianna, Adele, Mr. Gibson, George, and myself. William had, at the last moment, opted not to come – quite a curious thing, but I tried to think nothing of it – therefore allowing for my brother to fill his place.

"Where shall we go first?" Georgianna asked.

"To have luncheon, I'm starved." Mr. Gibson replied, "Aren't you starved, Molly?" he asked turning to me.

"I wouldn't say starved, Gibson" I replied, "but hungry."

It was then decided on going to the George Inn, by Gibson's advice of course.

When we arrived, Adele quickly started shouting in French: "Regardez! Regardez, il est il! Je n'ai pas su qu'il allait être ici? Avez-vous fait Mademoiselle?"

"Who are you talking about Adele? Who is here?" I queried.

"Monsieur Rochester, naturellement." she replied, causing me to look up.

To my shock and surprise, the child had been right – there Mr. Rochester stood, on the stair of the George, looking as surprised to see us as I'm sure I looked to see him.

"Sir" I greeted. "What an unexpected surprise."

"Miss Allen." his gruff voice replied as he took of his hat and bowed.


	38. Chapter 38

**A/N: **Well, here's the new chapter, mind you I'm a bit nervous due to the length since my last update. If you have any thoughts on the chapter, let me know. Otherwise, I hope it is up to what you guys expect :D Happy reading.

* * *

After a few moments of silence, Mr. Rochester seemed to have found his tongue once more – although I remained in dumbfounded silence. "What a surprise to see you here, Miss Allen. I was under the impression you despised London." he said coolly, reminding me of one of the first conversations I had with him which (As I recalled later, Reader) had included the subject.

"Yes, well, Adele wished me to come. I couldn't refuse her." I replied with a smile, looking down at the girl beside me who was looking between us with interest. For a moment, I wondered if she knew what had occurred between Mr. Rochester and myself; but then was reminded that she couldn't possibly have that knowledge. Then again, I knew that Adele was more than apt at finding things out, or spying if she wished.

Mr. Rochester smiled briefly at Adele, "Perhaps I shouldn't have hired you, Miss Allen. If you can be so easily influenced." he said, inciting a curious look from myself, but he ignored it as he continued, "However, considering Adele has increased in her studies – especially well with music – then I shall overlook this rather minute flaw."

I almost felt the immature urge to roll my eyes, but refrained from doing so, remembering that he was only teasing. "Thank you sir, for your forbearance. I shall endeavor to be more firm." I replied as Adele whispered in my ear. She asked if she could go talk to my brother, and with a brief look at my employer I gave her permission. She ran off without so much as a word to the man in front of us, but we could only laugh at her antics.

"And where is she off to?" he asked me.

"She is fetching my brother. Heaven only knows why." I answered as we lapsed into momentary silence.

"So are you staying in London overnight?" he inquired, shifting his hat in his hands.

"Not to my knowledge, we were only supposed to spend the day and return to Branhurst after dinner – but I am unsure, Hetta would know more than I."

"And did you have a pleasant trip?"

"Yes, very pleasant." I replied quietly, "As pleasant as six people in a carriage can be – one being a chatterbox."

Mr. Rochester chuckled, "Yes, she can be rather talkative."

"I fear for when she grows older, you might have a hard time keeping her attention away from young man."

"It is the French in her, I'm afraid. Her mother was very much the same." Mr. Rochester said.

Once more, we lapsed into uncomfortable silence.

"But I am surprised to see you here, sir." I said suddenly, causing his dark eyes to instantly snap to mine, "I was unaware you were planning a trip to London. We came quite impromptu ourselves. Apparently, Hetta has some more shopping to do."

Mr. Rochester's eyes became quizzical, his mouth turning into a frown "You were unaware?" he repeated, a confused look passing over his features. "But I sent –"

"Mr. Rochester, how surprised I am to see you." George's voice came from behind me, interrupting Mr. Rochester, and inciting a quick handshake between the gentlemen. "How are you sir?"

"Never better, Mr. Allen. I take it your studies have improved?"

George smiled, "Yes, they have, thanks to your advice. The Headmaster, Mr. Heatley, was more than happy to oblige with your suggestion." he answered, leaving me completely in the dark to just what my employer and brother were referring to.

"Good" Mr. Rochester replied, "With any luck you'll be in Cambridge by next year. Then you receive your family estate – correct?"

"Yes, Livingston." George said with a wistful look, "Once I graduate, I will move there. Molly will no doubt be pleased." he looked at me to find that the very thought of our family home made me smile. "She has always dreamed of returning home."

Mr. Rochester chuckled, but his eyes did not reflect the amusement of his tone, "You are to take her from my employ then?"

"Not yet." George replied quickly, "I'm not returning to the family home for a few years yet. Though if I had to take her from your employ, then I'm sure she could still help her pupil."

"Oh?" Mr. Rochester said, "How would that work?"

George shrugged, "I'm sure Molly would find a way. Besides, Ade – that is to say, Miss Varens – would always be welcome in our home." my brother said, not really to my surprise, but it seemed definitely to Mr. Rochester's.

"I'll keep that in mind then." my employer replied looking over my head. "Your six companions seem to have discovered us, Miss Allen."

With a quick glance behind me, I found (to my surprise) that Adele had not only fetched George, but also Henrietta – and therefore, Mr. Gibson, who had asked Mr. Rochester if he had lunched.

"Not yet." Mr. Rochester answered simply, "I was about to meet with one of my business associates at his home, lunch was the furthest thing from my mind. No doubt his mother and sister will insist that I stay for luncheon, therefore I did not think about it much." it was clear that any invitation that was to be extended from my cousin, was to be met with a rejection.

Henrietta soon moved forward, "Perhaps, then, we could meet for supper?" she proposed, "We plan on staying at least that late."

"I certainly hope not." George said quietly, earning a glare from my cousin. George was never very fond of shopping – unless of course it was concerning something which interested him.

"I'm afraid not." Mr. Rochester replied, "I have a dinner engagement as well."

Mr. Gibson spoke next quickly protesting Mr. Rochester's blatant declination of their invitation to sup with them. "Perhaps you could come to visit Branhurst – Mrs. Polk has asked after you, sir. Didn't she Molly?" he asked me, bringing me once more into the fray of conversation. Five sets of eyes settled on me (and for the first time, I realized that Georgianna was not there).

"Yes, she did, Mr. Rochester. She was surprised you declined the invitation to the wedding, and was rather put out. She hoped you would come." I informed him quietly.

"Yes, I'm sorry, but this business in London has caused me to refuse. I honestly wish I could come, but alas I cannot." Mr. Rochester said.

Henrietta quickly contested it, informing him that he was still invited, and hoped that he would come. He gave a pointed look at me, surprising me with his intent gaze. "I'll consider it." he replied to her, "If I can come, I might." then after a few moments longer – he excused himself, disappearing amongst the streets of London.

"Well!" Henrietta said with exasperation, "I would hope he would have accepted our invitation. That was rather rude of him."

"He said he was busy." I replied meekly. "He probably was. You can't force a man to lunch with us, Hetta."

Her hazel gaze settled on me in a curious manner, and taking Mr. Gibson's arm she went to the table which George had been able to acquire for us. Adele took George's arm herself, quite the little chatterbox as she spoke of Mr. Rochester's business (of which she knew very little about)

"Do you think its because of you, Molly?" Georgianna's voice came from behind me, as she linked her arm with mine. I honestly didn't know, and wondered myself if that was the reason with which he was so adament about his refusal.

"I don't know." I admitted, "I left Thornfield on good terms." at least I thought I had, and he had seemed cordial enough.

* * *

The trip to London ended later that evening, without another view of Mr. Rochester at the George. Henrietta was determined that he should come to the wedding now that she had seen him, and handed me a note to give to the innkeeper with the request that it be received by Mr. Rochester. Why my cousin chose me, I found out later; but for that time, I was thoroughly confused.

The next morning, I woke early to once more go on a walk before breakfast. I wished a bit of reprieve from the busy household of matrimonial plans. Indeed, for now that Hetta had finished putting together her trousseau, I was sure that from that moment on I would be obliged to steal time to myself.

My mind was confused at Mr. Rochester's actions the day before, and I wondered just what he would do with the invitation from Henrietta. Would he accept? And if so, how would he act after what had transpired between us? Would I be disappointed if he did not? Of course, I almost expected him not to accept; but I must confess, Reader, I had a slight hope that he would accept her invitation.

I had not gotten far, however, when I found myself face to face with the one person I wanted very much not to see: Charles Nelson.

"Good day, Miss Allen." he greeted cordially, astride the magnificent stallion which – if my memory served me well – was named Udolpho. He had always had a fondness for Radcliffe.

"Mr. Nelson." I replied, a tinge of irritation obvious in my voice, betraying my true discomfort. I almost hoped that he would simply nod and ride on – but to my dismay, he dismounted and came toward me. Although I could have turned and walked away, I found myself mysteriously rooted to the ground, too weak to protest as he took my hand and kissed it.

"I'm surprised to see you here, Miss Allen." he said in one of his most charming tones.

"Are you indeed?" I countered, "Somehow I doubt that, Mr. Nelson."

"Oh? And why is that?" he asked.

"Because you know I like to walk, and this is the path which I frequent." I answered, cursing my inability to counter his questions with a snide remark. Gaining my senses for a moment, I was able to retract my hand from his grasp. "I'm surprised to see you here, Mr. Nelson." I said.

"Are you indeed? Somehow I doubt that." he mocked me, reminding me of our banters almost two years previous.

"Why do you doubt that, Mr. Nelson? You are suppose to be in London." I replied, trying to move down the path so as to get away.

He laughed, "I am visiting my mother. Besides, do you know where you are?" he asked me, causing me to look around. I could feel a blush rising to my cheeks as I realized where I had absent-mindedly wandered to. "Do you not remember this place?"

"Yes – I – I –" I wished to tell him to leave me be, but could not form the words. My quiet, stuttering reply seemed to cause him to continue.

"I come here whenever I come to visit my mother. The place where I was the happiest, were you happy here Molly?" he asked, moving far too close for comfort. "I asked you to marry me here."

"Stop." I was finally able to whisper, secretly hoping that someone would come along and discover us – if only to make him leave. Yet, if we were found, my reputation would have been in tatters. I found myself in a quandary, which I would have given anything to get out of.

"Why?" he asked just as quietly, "Why do not wish me to remember? It is all I have left."

"That was your choice." I replied, finally regaining my courage, "For my memory reminds me of what you did."

"I loved you."

"You lied." I said stoically, watching almost helplessly as he came closer.

"Did you not love me, Molly?" he asked, taking my hand once more. By the grace of God, his actions did something which he did not plan, snapping me out of the strange fog of my mind, returning the functionality of my senses.

"How can you ask me that?" I demanded, snatching my hand from his grasp. I spun away from him and stepped back, "Was I not willing to risk my reputation for you?" I inquired, "But you did not love me."

"Yes I – "

"Then explain why you are married to another?" I told him, my broken heart finally having the chance to speak all it desired. "Speaking of Mrs. Nelson, why is it that she is not here? Why is it you are not with her?"

"I am with you and you inquire about another woman?" he retorted.

"That other woman, sir, happens to be your wife!" I took action to walk away when his strong hand grasped my arm. "Let me go!" I exclaimed, struggling in his arms.

"Molly please! Listen to me!"

"What is there to listen to? You made your decisions years ago, you chose what you did."

"I chose you, remember?" his temper flaring.

"No, you never did." I replied, beginning to fear my own emotions more than Charles' heartbreaking look.

"I was going to marry you."

"But did you?" I countered.

"I would have if your cousins had not interfered." he replied.

I shook my head, "Oh, Charles, but does it follow that in marrying me you would have been truly happy? You would have had a wife who adored you, but no money. Not to mention, your philandering ways would have come up eventually. Quite frankly, I'm happy that Richard intervened. It saved me a life of misery." I replied.

Charles looked dumbfounded, "Misery?" he repeated incredulously, "You would have been happy with me!"

"For how long?" I replied, "For how long until I found out what kind of a man I had chained myself to? Perhaps a year, or two – but not five, or ten. Not after I had had your children, not when I had seen you turn them into yourself. Can you honestly tell me that you would have not taught our son, or sons, your ways? Can you tell me you would have been faithful to one wife? No, I don't believe you can."

"They were all lies."

"What are you talking about?"

"Richard, he told you lies, I was not like-"

"Oh? I met her. I met your wife before you were married. She explained everything to me." Charles blanched, and for a moment I wondered if I had been too cruel to him – but then he returned to his previous forcefulness.

"You are wrong. I always loved you." he insisted.

"I won't listen to this anymore. Let me go Charles! Leave me be!" I shouted louder, hoping that he would obey me but not expecting it. I could feel the wetness on my cheeks as I cried for my resolve which was beginning to fail.

"Not until you listen to me!"

I struggled more, my strength waning as Charles' large frame was much stronger than I. I very nearly gave up when I heard the sweetest voice in the world say, its gruff assertion in a chilly undertone enough to cause Charles to let me go as if I were a coal. Eyes full of seeming fire, Mr. Rochester repeated himself:

"I believe she told you to let her go, Nelson."

* * *

Well? What do you guys think of my comeback? Review below.


	39. Chapter 39

**AlexaBird9: **Thank you for your review, I'm glad you like the story. Well I hope to continue more often now, but we'll see... I don't like making promises I know I can't keep. However, I hope you like this chapter.

**Lucy103: **Haha, thank you :D Its nice to hear I'm doing well, as I am somewhat insecure when it comes to my writing. I worry that I sound too... immature. So its nice to know that I'm not :) Ah, yes the troller... I'll be getting to her in a moment, though thank you for your support even though she is rather obnoxious. Anyways, put in your two cents in the chapter, I'll be looking forward to it. :D

**Earl Grey: **Haha XD I know, its awesome isn't it? I love yours by the way, my favorite kind of tea as a matter of fact. Its actually a private joke with my family, accurate considering most rebels are morons. :P Yeah, I know. However, I couldn't come up with anything further, otherwise I would have continued... but I'm back, and hope to update a little more within the week - don't count on it though, hopes and dreams don't tend to come true for me. Well, here it is :D hope you approve.

**BonBonnett: **Hello my friend, forgive me for not updating sooner. Yes, well there are a few things which will be cleared up in the next chapters. She actually didn't lie about him, but she's not completely informed herself about the feelings of others... I am actually a bit nervous about this one, as I actually don't know what I"m doing. I feel like I'm not writing enough - which is probably true. However, I'm a little unsure of how to continue... any suggestions? I always take your advice into account.

**MyraValhallah: **Ah, yes he is. :) I just thought it would be a good idea, as it is one of the original concepts in my mind when I started writing... one of those things. :)

**Amadayasuki: **You are my inspiration on this chapter. Had it not been for you, my new reviewer, this chapter wouldn't be up today. :D So pat yourself on the back. Really? Wow, that's awesome - and bad all at once, you should be sleeping at 5am. :P Haha, thank you for the compliment. I'm glad you love it, as I love it too - despite the fact that I abandon it for long periods of time. It really made my day when I saw you on there, and I had to finish up the chapter I'd been working on. I hope you like it, though it is a little more like filler than actual plotline, I hope to kick the paramecium a bit and post a *real* chapter soon. :)

As for you **Guest (aka, hburnsorgtfo): **Thank you for finally telling me what your problem was with my story. I have been curious as to just *what* you had an issue with, although you were never forthcoming. I have not ignored you, I simply was clueless. However, I must ask you a question: if you have such a low opinion of Jane, then why did you read the book? Furthermore, why did you read my story? If Charlotte Bronte wished to write about a feminist, then she would have, and there would be a book called 'Helen Burns' instead of Jane Eyre. However, I don't think that even Helen was of that mindset. I have read the book, and I will say that Helen followed the Bible, however if you have noticed there is no 'Feminism' in it. Yes, there is a lot of problems with the whole 'men making women into their slaves' and I don't agree with that. But feminism isn't about 'freeing' the women, its about enslaving them in a different way. Women now work, leaving their children in a place where they are raised to be exactly different than what the Bible - and I only quote it because you decided to bring in Helen's faith, which I might add, you twisted to fit your own beliefs - dictates. Women aren't *supposed* to work, according to what was written there, I should know. I will inform you at this point that I am not, nor have ever been, a feminist. Quite frankly I think there is quite a bit wrong with the whole feminist movement, and seeing as this is still a free country I think I'm allowed my own opinions. As for Mary Allen, I will tell you that I have written her as a woman based in the time period. If you read Bronte (who lived back then I might add) and any others who were alive during that time, you will find that that is what women were. She is Rochesters equal in the sense that she has her own mind, and she is able to think for herself. Because of that, she is already his equal. Besides, feminism - in my opinion - was started by women who did not do a very good job of persuading their husbands to treat them the way God intended. Therefore, I will say that you have no idea what you're talking about, and you're only feeding one of the things which has destroyed this country. Because Feminism brought about 'freedom of choice' which brought about things like abortion, and broken homes, and divorce. Helen, had she lived, would most likely have *not* been a feminist, or else you know nothing of the word. She was a Bible believing Christian, who did not allow others to beat her for 'equality's sake, but because it is what she read of martyrs and saints. As for the so-called 'debauchery', which you have interpreted as 'love', I will say that if anything: LOVE transcends all. Shall I bring up the Lord Jesus Christ? 'For God so LOVED the world he gave his only begotten son"? Are you aware the Bible is filled with one huge love story? Without God there is no love, as it is clearly stated that 'God IS Love' in 1st John. Therefore, I would not be so audacious as to insult the Almighty with what he deems as one of the most important things in the universe. For *true* love is the greatest thing of all. Feminism, is a society without love, for it is a concept that women don't *need* men. And if we don't need men, we dont' need God. Is that what you're trying to say? However, I will not argue petty points. If you dislike my story as much as you claim, then you have my blessing to find one which is more to your taste, or write one yourself. I don't want people to read my stories, when they have no intention to enjoy them. Therefore, dear **hburnsorgtfo, **I ask you to please take me off whatever following list, and let me in peace. I'll leave it at that.

* * *

The look in Charles' eyes was priceless as he stared awestruck at Mr. Rochester's command – for as my employer stood on the hill, he looked more like a king than a simple landowner from Derbyshire. His black eyes were narrowed slightly, his lips set in a grim line, the tone being one which dared the receiver to disobey – at that moment, I was grateful that his wrath had never turned to me in the manner that it was directed at Charles. For I would have fled in fear, not wishing to incur anything worse than harsh words.

"Mary, come here." he commanded, using my christened name which had been established as never to be questioned, he extended his hand in assistance as I went to run to his side, a place of safety. Charles made to take my arm back when Mr. Rochester stopped his actions with a step forward and a sharp tone, "You forget yourself, Mr. Nelson. You are a married man, and although you once were free to be as you have been with Miss Allen, that option is no longer available to you. Or have you forgotten that your behavior can ruin a woman's reputation, and Miss Allen has made it clear that she wishes you to leave her be."

Charles pointedly ignored him, turning to me instead, "Molly I meant every word I said, surely you remember –"

"Stop Charles." I caused him to halt, "Do not continue as you have been."

"But we once – "

"I think that's enough Mr. Nelson," Mr. Rochester stepped forward once more, and I climbed the hill to go to his side. I knew not how to react to the two men as my employer quickly stepped in front of me, Charles standing with a somewhat helpless look on his face. I was most grateful to Mr. Rochester for his interruption to the rather distressing situation – but I could not stop Charles, for against my will I found he still had some power over me. I cursed this weakness, wishing that my heart would follow my head and its logic... but alas, I still could not reconcile them.

"I don't believe that this is your affair, Mr. Rochester. This is between Miss Allen and myself." Charles had the audacity to state.

Mr. Rochester's countenance displayed the desire to retort, but I replied instead.

"His affair or not, Charles, he is right. If you ever loved me, I entreat you, leave me be. I'm not as I once was, it has been two years and I have changed. Yes, I was wrong to a point, and perhaps choices could have been made which would have been different. Nevertheless, your behavior is unfitting of a married man, Mr. Rochester is right. You made your choice a long time ago when you chose to allow your uncle to determine your path. I have made mine, and there is an end to it." I replied all logic and reason, willing my emotions not to show as I found myself still drawn, my voice somewhat shaking with feelings which I had long thought buried. "You are wrong to believe my feelings any deeper than I have made clear, Mr. Nelson. I'm sorry you have believed any different."

Charles was never one to accept defeat easily, and once more tried to speak to me of his love when I turned to Mr. Rochester and asked him to accompany me home. A cruel thing my heart argued, but my mind insisted that I leave.

"One moment, please Mary, if you would give Mr. Nelson and I a moment alone?" he requested. I nodded and walked a good distance away – curious as to what they would say, but far too respectful of my employer to spy. Whatever he had to say was between he and Charles, were I to try and pry, no doubt he would not be pleased. So I waited, taking a seat on a nearby log which had fallen a few years before.

Soon enough, Mr. Rochester returned to me, and declaring his business was done, he lead me away.

"You came." I stated to Mr. Rochester once we had left the glen. He stared down at me, his mind apparently elsewhere as his eyes were clouded with confusion.

"What?" he asked for a moment, "Oh! Yes, well, after hearing your cousin's rather emphatic invitation yesterday, I really had no choice but to come. And its a good thing I did, so it seems." he said, looking back toward where we had left Charles. "Did you expect to see him?"

"No." I answered, "I walked here quite by mistake, Cha – Mr. Nelson, I mean – came by at the same time. Whether to find me here, or by accident I don't know."

Mr. Rochester offered me his arm, which I took gladly and we walked in silence for a bit. "He seemed to truly be in love with you – Mr. Nelson, I mean – for I cannot imagine a man so adamant whose feelings were not true." he finally said. "Molly, you did tell me the whole story, yes?"

I turned to him, anxious for my own answer. "Yes, sir, I did. For I would not withhold anything you asked of me, unless I was bound by some earnest promise. However, perhaps you are right from a certain point of view." I replied, "He was, indeed, quite adamant – and had you not arrived, I might have come to believe him as well. I think he has always... loved me. As much as a man of his character can."

"You told me he was engaged to three women at once. You, his current wife, and another woman. Tell me, what excuse did he tell you when you inquired of the different ladies?" he inquired.

"He said he had asked Miss Jameson long before he had ever met me, back when he was very young; He had become engaged to Miss Wilson, not of his own accord, but out of an arranged marriage with his Uncle; with me, he said that he loved me, hence he was marrying me." I answered, "Why do you ask, sir?"

Mr. Rochester's thick brow furrowed, lines appearing upon his forehead, "A man who engages himself to three women at once is considered a scoundrel... but I know not of his true intentions, I am not the Almighty. I think perchance there is a possibility that he loved you." he answered. I, confused, asked for a more detailed explanation. "His problem was: his fancy was turned too easily." said he, "For if he obviously was never in love with Miss Jameson, and if he were, then he would not have even considered you. The marriage of convenience I understand, as it is common. As you know, I, myself, was involved in one of those."

"Aye, sir, I know." I replied, "Are you saying that I am his 'Jane'?"

My employer looked at me with a strange look, and for a moment I wondered if perhaps he had taken my question as insult, and quickly made to remedy it. However, he simply laughed, "Ah, sweet Maria, how little you understand me. I took no insult at your comparing yourself to her – I to he, I do however. That man is nothing like me." he corrected.

"Forgive me sir, I meant no disrespect." I apologized, but he would have none of it.

"Disrespect? I am thoroughly insulted!" he exclaimed, though it was obvious by his tone it was only in jest, "For I only had one woman in the attic, and another in my heart. Mr. Nelson had not only a woman in his heart, but a woman in his closet, and another at the altar!" he laughed heartily, though I must admit, Reader, I did not completely understand what he found so amusing. However, the picture of Charles running around with three women in the image he painted, ran through my mind. Perhaps that was what he found so laughable.

"I shall never compare you, Sir. For you are not the same." I said, half wishing that Mr. Rochester would hear my unspoken words. He stopped, taking my hand in his own.

"Yet, I am like him. For I have a wife in my attic, and two women sharing my heart." he said quietly, "Oh Marianne, what am I to do?"

I looked upon him, my heart constricting with the pain which was in his eyes. For it was too true, hence why I did not agree to marry him. Perhaps I was being unnecessarily cruel, denying him what little love he could have just because of my selfishness. I wanted him all for my own, and wanted to be the only woman whose smiles and loving looks he ever showered upon. I would never be happy if part of his heart still belonged to Jane Eyre... yet, I also was committing a crime against my heart in scheming to bring them back together.

"Why do you ask me this, sir?" I asked him, not yet wanting to pull my hand away from his.

His black eyes bored into mine, "You know why, Molly."

"Sir, as a friend –" he visibly grimaced at the word, "As a friend, I can only recommend that you follow your first instincts. Perhaps she will return to you yet."

"She will not, and I would not ask it of her. I deceived her from the beginning, I at least told you the truth before I asked you to marry me." said he.

"Would you have told me had I not already seen Mrs. Rochester with my own eyes?" I asked him, "For that was the reason you were able to launch into your tale of woe, sir. And had I not known, would you still have told me before asking for my hand in marriage?"

He closed his eyes, "I know not. For it did not happen that way." he sighed, opening his eyes once more, lacing my arm to rest on his. "Do you still love him?" an honest question enough, though I knew not how to answer. However, I could confess my battling feelings at the glen. "You love him still, then. If only slightly."

"Very slightly, sir. For I do not love him as much as–" I immediately stopped, unable to continue lest I give him some kind of hope which was not there, as I was unsure of myself as much as anything else.

"Me." he finished, "Yet, you refused me – do not reply, Molly, I know why. My heart is as torn as your own. We both love others, while our hearts also yearn for each other. Ah! But if we had met each other first!"

"Do not speak like that, sir. It is not all hopeless. She may yet return to you." I said as he patted my hand.

"Oh Molly, you have such hope for my wounded heart. T'were you right, I would call you Cupid." he chuckled.

I shook my head, "I am no Cupid, that is for sure, sir."  
"No, you are not. You are as beautiful as Aphrodite, and I am as ugly as Hephaestus. Pray, why would someone like you love a lowly creature like myself?" he asked.

"Even Hephaestus was the son of Zeus. Truly that counts for something." I replied, "Though may I ask why you ask this question? You have asked it of me before."

"Have I?"

"Aye, sir. And if I did not know you as I do, I would think you're searching for compliments." I teased, watching as he looked over at me incredulously before laughing.

"Nay, Aphrodite. I know you would compliment me whether I coaxed you or not." he said, "Though Maria, I do fault you for something."

"Yes, sir?"

"All this 'sir' business. At the very least call me Mr. Rochester, I abhor anyone I love calling me 'sir'. It is completely unfriendly, and frigid; not an ounce of love in the word at all. You call a Lord a 'sir', but that does not mean you have any relationship worth having with them. I know you will not call me 'Edward', that much is clear, as you are far too proper to call me that. But I have told you before to leave the 'sir' at Thornfield, in the company of Mrs. Fairfax!" he ordered.

I had to laugh, "As you wish, Mr. Rochester." I replied as we continued down the lane.

* * *

When we arrived at Branhurst, it was clear my family was happy that Mr. Rochester had decided to come after all. Henrietta thanked him for accepting her invitation, and told him that it was an honor to have him come to the wedding – she then proceeded to tell him that: 'as the bride, she would assume the right to order him to make sure I did not go without enjoyment at the reception'. He had laughed, his eyes sparkling merrily with mischief, I could only wonder at what was going through his head.

My brother was enthralled with conversing with the man, and immediately dragged him away from me to see something or other. As for myself, I was quickly snatched up by Georgianna who asked how I came upon my employer. "Quite by accident." I told her, "For Charles had met me first." she then proceeded to hear the whole story, and it was briefly narrated before Henrietta called me to ask my opinion on a facet of her dress which was yet to be finished.  
When breakfast was ready, we all moved to the dining room, eating with as much joy as we had had when Mr. Rochester had visited before. William and Richard monopolized his time for the most part, and I was sent on errands around the house to finish making up my cousin's trousseau. George took Adele riding again, and I knew that by the age of fourteen, my brother could very well find a young girl pining after him.

By the middle of the day, I was tired, my feet aching with all the walking they were doing. After being excused my my aunt and cousins, I was allowed to take respite in the library, where I curled up with a good book. However, the words on the page seemed meaningless, as I wondered if Miss Austen had ever been in love. Sure, she knew the aspects, but I now came to find that true love was more that what she had written. Mistake me not, Reader, for I am a fan of her work, but it was found somewhat wanting. Yet, I still allowed myself to be transported to the wondrous grounds of Pemberley.

A call of my name informed me I was needed, and placing the book back upon the shelf, I went to find out why I had been summoned.

It had been Anne, who had arrived a few minutes before with Eliza and her husband. Upon greeting me, she quickly pulled me aside.

"Oh sister! How good it is to see you!" Anne exclaimed, embracing me with warm familiarity. I must admit, I enjoyed the display of affection which I did not see just a few months prior. "Oh Molly, do you remember what I told you about last time?" she asked me, I nodded. "Well, I have good news! He is coming to ask for my hand of my Cousin Richard!" she exclaimed, beaming with joy as she was barely able to suppress her words so as not to be heard by the rest of the family.

"Quiet down, Anne, unless you wish the rest of the family to hear you." I chided, "So you don't intend on eloping, eh?"

She shook her head, "No. We spoke about it again, and it was decided that I didn't need my uncle's permission. Richard will be good enough, and my Aunt Polk – oh, Molly, he is coming to the wedding. Do you think that my cousin will accept his offer?"

"Have you accepted his offer?" I asked her. She nodded, "So you have come to an understanding?" once more, she nodded. "I'm sure Richard and Aunt Fanny will do what they believe is right. Do they know the gentleman?"

"You know him just as much – though I think of all the family you will be the only one to disagree." she said vaguely. I remembered her saying that there was one person in the family that didn't like her beloved, and if it was me then that narrowed it down to half-a-dozen men. I tolerated most of them enough, perhaps enough to allow them to marry my sister.

"Oh? I think not." I replied.

"You don't even know who he is."

"He has made you happy. And if my aunt and cousin deem him worthy, then I shall not come between you, no matter what." I replied, "Though I think you owe Mr. Rochester an apology when he does come calling. You acted scandalously last time you saw him."

She looked over at my employer, "Perhaps you are right. I will do that when Tom– when _he _and my cousin come to an agreement." she caught herself, but in that instant I knew who it was.

There were only two men I knew that were named 'Tom' who I didn't like. One was Tom Lindsey, the grocer's son. The other was Thomas Morton. Knowing my sister, and her description of the man she loved, only Morton fit it. Philandering cad with a shameless reputation for being a flirt, falls for a younger girl, family believes he is bad, and I dislike him – oh yes, it was Morton alright.

"Anne dear, how are you?" Aunt Fanny suddenly said, pulling my sister away.

"What's got you looking quite beside yourself?" Eliza asked from beside me.

I looked over at her, "Quite frankly, you do not wish to know, Sister. Trust me when I say its not pleasant." I replied.

She looked incredulous, then turned to Mr. Rochester. "Well Mr. Rochester, you must tell me how my sister acts in Derbyshire..."

* * *

Short I know, but I intend to do more later... reviews?

P.S. - forgive me readers for my diatribe earlier. However, I'm afraid that such a review could not be ignored. Again, I apologize for any insult which I may have given anyone with regards to my views. They are mine, and mine alone.


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